NoHoper
by Ruin Takada
Summary: Merely a test-subject/researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No pairings shared here, takes place in a canon-changed Untamed.
1. 0 Prologue

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So, the teenage idiocy has been reduced, the homosexual-stereotypes-based-on-media-projections have been veritalised, and the inability for narrators to concentrate on their jobs and not do ADD-induced 'hee hee's has been cured. Deal with it. I saw my chance and took it for the sake of Fanfiction. Do what you like, just don't tell the Cast duo (Kristen may be fired and have to deal with the shame of having me replace her). **

**But I digress. Just read, don't hurt me, and be glad this isn't the original duo writing this. **

**And don't tell them about that last part. Please.**

* * *

><p>Prologue<p>

To whomever it may concern,

Late last night, at 11PM approx., the newest improvement of the anti-vampyre drug Denyxinil was tested on one patient – the patient known here as '1.5.R'. The objective of the last five years was to develop the prevention to Vampyrism, and, five years on, all I can say is that we have failed. We have not progressed any further than before this vain task was undertaken.

From this day on, we will continue to monitor this last patient, until 1.5.R's eventual Change or death. After that, the project will be abandoned, and the last of the funds given to the local cat shelter, "Street Cats", a charity chosen by the head assistant Dr Summers.

Inside this briefcase, you will find all the research data and samples connected to the ADON (Aversion or Destruction Of Night-children) project, along with the latest sample of Denyxinil, as tested on 1.5.R. The research will end with 1.5.R, and to this end, I leave all of it to 1.5.R, in the eventuality of the patient's continued survival, with which to use as 1.5.R wishes. In the case of 1.5.R's death, as human or fledgling, the research shall be left to Dr Summers, to use as she wishes.

I ask that no man dare to complete this futile goal, lest the Vampyres curse us with death for attempting to defy them, as they have us many times.

Until we meet again on the Road of Good Intentions,

Doctor G Primrose, MD

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you, and this is the newest story brought to you from the brain of Ruin Takada. Because I have nothing to do except judge the Coffin-Side Competition (which I ask that you enter, please), I have decided to go ahead and do this in the meantime. While a lot of this has been planned and just needs writing, I have decided to try and be regular with this one, and keep updates coming every fortnight or so from the next chapter onwards, as long as you review. It sounds so unlike me to be this organised, I know, but I do need to make this change, for everyone's sakes. **

**Due to this, author notes will be kept to a minimum, if I can help it. I will focus solely on this for as long as I can, and when I run out of steam on this, expect something else good to come around the corner. As this is my first crossover with this series, don't expect something totally brilliant, but do support it if you can, and don't think I'll drop the quality **_**just because**_**. **

**In short, expect a reform of character and writing. For one thing, expect chapter titles and such to be original for once. Don't expect song title rip-offs again. Expect some pop-culture references, but don't expect great ones until later, when I get better at them. Either way, the CoffinSide writing era has sparked some changes in me, so expect a number of them. **

**Thank you, faithful reader, and please R&R. **


	2. I Altered

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**The Cast duo doesn't know where I live, thankfully, and my pal Washington here says you don't tell them. Please? I have dear old Darwin, if your currency swings that way. **

* * *

><p>Chapter I<p>

Altered

Finally returned to my room, I lay quietly on my bed, unwilling to move as the mild sedentary effect of the drug took its hold, almost numbing me from the tips of my fingers and toes upwards. Hooked up to a monitor, and alone in the bright artificial lighting of the room, I tried not to think about the look on Dr Summers' face as she left me to the hands of the doctors in Lab 17: The same look of motherly loss and regret given to every No-Hoper that tested the aptly nicknamed 'No-Hope-pamine'.

To those of us on the ADON project, and to those of us teenagers acting as its guinea pigs, this drug was more properly termed 'Denyxinil'.

For the last five years, I had been working both as a researcher and a No-Hoper with the ADON Project Research Team led by Dr G Primrose, having left my home in Japan aged 11, leaving my own parents voluntarily. I had spent the last five years labouring hard to research and develop the prefect prevention and cure to the process that made a human become a vampyre – that would nip it in the bud even before Marking could begin. After all, the process was due to an alteration of bodily functions to an irreversible degree, something that drugs and chemicals have been doing since before anyone could remember.

With no consideration taken into account on the fact that I researched along with them, earning a steady salary that I then sent back to my parents, my primary function in the US of A's Oklahoma was as a No Hoper, a child who'd been examined and found to be among the minority of humans who would possibly be Marked to be a vampyre (through a process of physical and mental examinations so seemingly pointless that it's a wonder such a result became apparent from them). Pre-marked out as such by the scientists, as were a number of others from countries around the world, we were gathered together in one building, in Tulsa, OK, ready to have any concoction of the drug tested on us as and when it was ready.

Whether or not this particular serum, of which I had been dosed on, would fill out its purpose was as yet to be seen: It had barely been an hour since I had been given the dose, and the benchmark time of 24 hours had yet to pass. After that, if all went well ('well' marked by me reaching fledging status, as prevention was so far impossible), I'd be given one of the infamous notebooks in which to note down every detected symptom I felt afterward. The notebook – and others like it – was famous for its completely black cover, and the fact that it was nearly always second-hand, having once belonged to another No-Hoper beforehand before circumstances landed it in the hands of another. For this reason, the notebooks were always bad omens, often called 'Death Notes' by the No-Hopers, and sometimes by the doctors themselves.

In reality, this hardly happened, and notebooks were always passed along, usually without even being written in. There was a reason, of course, that we Test Subjects were called 'No-Hopers'.

Feeling cold creeping up from the extremities (an expected symptom, for that's what any long-enough surviving No-Hoper will tell you) I twisted my head up to glance at the digital clock on my bedside table, watching as digital light-bars flicked off at the passing of another minute. 23:11 – another 49 minutes until midnight. I may as well prepare myself for a slow night ahead, if I was to see the end of it. They say around here that out of all of the No-Hopers that take any variation of the drug, on average 2 out of 5 of them 'drop out of the experiment' in their sleep, and so it was with a great effort that I resisted closing my eyes. Sleeping through it would be the coward's way out, the path to only be taken by one who wished to childishly avoid the potential pain of Death.

I had never been a coward, nor did I wish to start becoming one now. Not in the face of a potential death. The only possible fears I could be permitted to have, if at all, was how the team could cope without me. If I did not last the benchmark time, like so many others, would they know how to correctly alter the serum, how to change it without me there to nudge them in the right direction?

Knowing the drug's temperamental and delicate nature, the only good thing I could do now was relax, keep my breathing even, and let the No-Hope-pamine carry out its designed-

Suddenly, white-hot pain stabbed me between the eyes. It scattered my thoughts, blinded me, my sight nothing more than the white absence of colour.

My body arrested, seized. My back arched high, every muscle constricted to bone-crunching tightness, squeezing as the agony crackled through every synapse to every ending. My teeth clenched together. Unbearable heat burned through my limbs. Clamping my hands to my face, fingers bent tight like claws, my body began to convulse uncontrollably. My eyes turned up into my skull, a scream wrenching its way from my throat, raw, tearing my larynx sore.

Beyond my own control, I fell, hitting the floor hard on my back, muscles still shaking savagely, almost ripping and tearing from my bones. Another wave of agony hit me so hard I couldn't blink or draw breath, only scream harder, my throat lubricated with blood. Everything was becoming tunnelled as I began to lose consciousness, only a matter of time before I succumbed, eventually.

The darkness fell around me, all lost but the pain that strangled me, shaping my reality, becoming it. That was it for the longest time – or, at least, for the last of it that I knew.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The first chapter, all done. Just don't expect it to be this bad the next time round. From here on out, unless I get jittery and decide to update early, this will update either every fortnight or every month, just so long as you review. In case you don't know already, or haven't guessed it yet, I am from the UK, as my spelling scheme will betray. This has made writing a crossover with this very American tale quite difficult. Oh, from now on, don't be surprised if you get a British idiom, like 'mobile' instead of 'cell phone', or 'goit/smeg-head/equivalent British synonym' instead of 'dick/ho/generic American vernacular'. This is just a warning, you can ignore it if you like, but if you pretend that it never existed in the first place, there are lawsuits on the ready. **

**Thank you, and please R&R. **


	3. II Adopted

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**The Cast duo, cheapening vamp**_**i**_**res since 2007. Ruin Takada, culling the evils of literature since 2011 – or at least giving them the **_**joie de vivre**_**. **

* * *

><p>Chapter II<p>

Adopted

The darkness receding, somewhat, was my next memory, followed by mild surprise at the presence of cognitive thought. I was still alive? Still breathing? My inner voice seemed a lot less surprised than it should have in light of recent events. _Huh, right. So… not dead? That was nice of them. _

Still, considering the whole day I'd spent 'coming to terms' the day before, that wasn't so much of a surprise. I hadn't wanted to do anything until I was sure that I could handle the consequences. To think, I was so prepared for death, only for me to end up living after all. I didn't know whether to be angry or thankful that I'd been spared thus far.

The ambivalence bred confusion in my mind, almost deadening all else. Resisting the temptation to let that unfamiliar feeling take over, I distracted it, reaching out instead for answers to the even more current situation. I was comfortable, no longer on fire, yet not assuming room temperature either. The pain had been wiped clean from my system, a welcome comfort and a welcome change from the last moment's hell. I only felt light, rested, untroubled and smothered in that familiar smell of chemical cleanliness that could only be associated with labs, hospitals, and once upon a time, the family home (only without the hint of brewed tea freshness).

Only the behind-closed-eyes darkness existed, tinted red with invading outside light. So, with the air of awakening from a good night's sleep, I opened my eyes, my sight clearing slowly to the unfamiliar territory of a dimly light room. Having once lived in an environment where harsh artificial lighting was the only one available, the use of soft gaslight here felt too faint, too old, and too alien. The walls and ceiling, both painted white as far as I could tell, were plain and clean, permissibly similar to my room back at the Research facility. Was I still there, just in a different room? I hoped so: Waking up to find it was time for the social hour with the rest of the No-Hopers, and that I hadn't taken the Denyxinil yet would be far preferable to this strangeness. Yes, the No-Hopers weren't always well-versed in English, or Japanese, or in the other languages I knew, but at least their awkward conversations were relaxing, easy, even with the need for animated gesticulations.

Out of the blue, a light hand touched my shoulder, another familiar feature in an otherwise unfamiliar situation, that soft touch indicative of Dr Summers' presence alone. Turning to face her, a jolt of pain shot up my neck and down my forehead, causing a grimace of pain as my hand shot up to sooth it. Shushing softly, the doctor's caring motherly personality shone through, the young woman moving into my field of vision rather than allowing me to attempt movement, and a gentle smile on her face framed by long waves of blonde hair, a few butterfly stitches over her left eyebrow. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice still soft.

I tried to reply, but my throat was sore and dry, so I could only manage a brief nod, triggering yet another shot of pain up my neck. Another hand found its way to touch my right arm, pain suddenly cooling and dissipating with the touch. I sighed with the relief, turning to look up at the owner of the hand with the healing touch.

I was lost for words when I saw her. She was a beautiful young woman, yet ageless, a fine veil of dignity and maturity enhancing her features. Her hair was long and auburn, her face set with almond shaped, moss-green eyes that seemed to emanate a look of true intelligence. Once upon a time, a girl had once written in a love letter that my eyes had that same effect on her, so it was strange to meet someone who could give me that experience first-hand, who could make me see what I'd once made that girl see. Surrounding those eyes was pale yet smooth skin, her face itself an almost perfect heart-shape no doubt envied by all. She was slim, yet in possession of strong curves that would have even the most dignified of men drooling all over her in desire (thankfully, I could keep a better handle on myself, and so didn't). Compared to Dr Summers, the doctor was a wilting desert flower competing for the sun against an English Rose.

Yet that's what didn't capture my attention the most: On her forehead were vivid sapphire blue tattoos, centred with a filled in crescent moon and framed with swirls like ocean waves that extended down to her high cheekbones. She looked me straight in the eye as she smiled at me, showing off straight white teeth, holding my gaze until I had no choice but to keep looking.

_So, this is a vampyre…_

"Does that feel better now?" she asked, her voice strong, yet caring. Obviously, she was a strong and powerful vampyre, someone who demanded respect and had already earned it from her peers. As the first vampyre I'd met personally, she was everything I'd expected, to an extent. She was beautiful, powerful, intelligent…

_A liar? Bloodthirsty evil wrapped in a pretty package?_

_**Images flashed through my mind at her smile, clear images wrapped in fog, half-forgotten… but not forgotten well enough. **_

_**A living room shrouded in darkness, silhouettes of people on the floor, another stood in the shadows, his (her?) eyes reflecting the light of the door, glowing, blue facial tattoos bright against pale skin. **_

_Don't think about it._

"Uh, yeah," I answered, my voice quiet after its disuse and misuse, my eyes averted, "that's better, thanks."

"Wonderful. Welcome to the Tulsa House of Night. I'm Neferet, the High Priestess."

_High Priestess. The Queen Bee. The instigator. The worst one here, if there's such a scale. _

"Pleased to meet you." I answered, eyes still downcast as I found my voice, somewhat. I held out my hand for her to shake, only for her to grab hold of my forearm firmly. It was a strange goodwill gesture, belonging to a culture that had grown up isolated from the world of mere men. _Only joining with them to devour them, right? _Looking over to Summers, I watched her eyes widen at the spectacle – obviously, she was more confused than anything over this.

"Now, would you care to explain?" She asked, turning to face Dr Summers, looking her up and down, eyes lingering at the sight of the white lab coat – her usual attire. A smirk marred the High Priestess' features, but it only lingered for a fraction of a second, too fast for Summers to have noticed, but not too fast for me. _A glimpse of her true nature? This soon?_

"Explain what?" Summers asked, a vulnerable expression set on her face, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Why this fledgling of ours was brought in not only unconscious, but by a doctor no less? I mean no offence to you, but I doubt that a human doctor would know much about vampyres."

"That is," I spoke up, sitting up gently in the bed, "unless they specialise in vampyre physiology?" I had always known Summers to be a shy, introverted woman, who was oftentimes put down by her colleagues (especially her superiors), who only really found herself in comfort working with the No-Hopers and similarly young people. As a woman who would've certainly been more use and much happier as a paediatrician, I knew that she couldn't possibly be a match against such a self-confident monster as this one.

Summers nodded in agreement, finding herself, "Yes, that's right. I specialised in the field, and I've been carrying out extensive research on vampyres for the last ten years. As for why I brought him in myself, I've been acting as his guardian for the last five years, since his parents still live in Japan."

"I see, but why would he, at the age of 11 years old, be so far away from his home in the first place?"

"Well, um, he, he'd been taking part in an investigation with my team, both as a volunteer and an investigator."

"Oh, and investigating what, exactly? How to cure vampyres, I suppose?" Her eyes seemed to flash dangerously, violently. Obviously, this was an offence at its most base level.

"Y-you could say that."

"And let me guess, this poor boy was duped into testing whatever concoction you'd mixed up, regardless of the effect it could have had on him? And what is more, he was then Marked in such a manner? I don't know how you treat your children, Dr Summers, but let me tell you, we vampyres have a very dim view of those who will not only strive to harm us, but use an innocent child to do it." Her voice was raised in anger at Summers and, with an aura that seemed to emanate power, the effect must have no doubt been overwhelming for the shy doctor.

_As if a vampyre would care about a child. How typical of a vampyre to lie so blatantly. _

"Let's be thankful, then," Neferet continued, "that the fledgling, upon entry to the House of Night, is legally emancipated from their parents or guardians, so he'll – thankfully – no longer be in your care. He'll have one of our best teachers as a mentor, and he'll be in the best of care, far away from you and your meddling ways-"

"No," I said, daring to cut her off, "I'll be in the best of care as long as we remain in contact."

"What?" the vampyre asked, "Why would you want to stay in contact with such an abusive person?"

"Because, like you said," I answered, not looking directly at her, practically restraining myself from yelling at her, "I've taken that concoction, and if she can't keep in contact with me regularly, then she can't keep a track of my health, and who knows what affect this drug will have on me, especially in the long run?" the argument seemed to win her over, for her expression softened, and she gave another one of her kind smiles in my direction.

"Of course. I would never dream of putting a fledgling's health at risk, especially as I myself am a healer." _'Healer'? A killer, perhaps._

She replaced her pale hand upon my shoulder, "Now, if you feel better, we can take you to meet your new roommate." Nodding, I made to get out of the bed, her hand still on my shoulder, supporting me. Suddenly, as I began to stand up straight, my legs buckled, and I fell into her, my hands reaching out to grab her arms, steadying myself. Thankfully, she didn't take offense, helping me find my feet again. Absent-mindedly, I brushed my fringe out of the way of my eyes with my fingers, watching as, without warning, her eyes narrowed at me in suspicion bordering malevolence. _Are vampyres so murderously temperamental that a simple gesture can anger them? _

She glared at me like that for what felt like whole minutes, the tension in the room so thick that it could be physically cut.

The infirmary's door suddenly creaked and slammed back, and we both turned to look at the source of the noise: It was Dr Primrose himself, his prematurely salt-and-pepper hair a tussled mess, as though the wind had raked through it and dishevelled his clothes (thankfully not his work set) while it was at it. He was panting for breath, his hands on his knees as he dropped a rucksack to the floor. Recovering quickly enough, he straightened up, giving me a brief wave of the hand in casual salutation. "Sorry I took so long," he said, smiling, "You'd been asleep a while so I went back to the Facility to pack your things. There were too many books and clothes to pack in this, so expect one of us back with the res- oh." His bespectacled gaze must've finally focused on the scene properly, for he'd stopped himself. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

That was Dr G Primrose for you. He was considered a handsome charmer, the talk of the staff room, and a Nobel Prize hopeful, but he could be a real dork every now and again, especially when it came to his talent with ill-timed entries. I would need more than two hands to count the number of times he'd burst in on a pair of over-friendly No-Hopers over the years. Fun fact? No one knows what the 'G' in his name stands for, save of course for his own mother, of course.

"No, of course not." The High Priestess released her grip on me, turning to face Dr Primrose smiling. "He merely tripped, so I was helping him to his feet." She turned back to me, still smiling now that Primrose was here, and I'd put my fringe back into position over my forehead. "Now, I should let you know, now that you're starting a new life here, you can change your name if you so wish."

"What? Really?" It was hard to believe that a school would allow 15-16 year olds such freedom, but it wasn't particularly surprising when you looked at the names of some famous vampyres in the media today. I mean, I suppose that's why that gothic/glam rock singer has been getting away with the moniker 'Marilyn Manson' for all these years.

"Of course. New name, new life. That's the way it works here."

"Fine then, I suppose I'll be Light Asahi from now on." Smiling, I studied the expression on her face in reaction to this, watching as she gave a quick smirk, remoulding it into her usual kind smile. I knew that my father would be disappointed, maybe even insulted by my dropping of the Yagami name, but that would be a matter for another day. Right now, this matter was much more important, enough to be considered life or death.

"Well then, Light?" Neferet replied, holding out a welcoming arm, "Are you ready to start your new life?" I merely nodded in response, not quite trusting myself to not say something that would insult her, or at the very least hold out all my cards. I followed her out of the room, taking my bag from Primrose without saying goodbye – the speed at which she walked allowed me no time and no chance, as though she wanted me away from them as quickly as possible.

Walking out of the Infirmary and further into the old building that was the Tulsa House of Night; I felt myself moving further into the dragon's den. I may no longer be a No-Hoper in essence, having moved out of the Facility, but if I didn't have the sense to watch my back, then I may as well be as dead as one.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you, and that's that so far. I know I said I would only update every two weeks, but as you can imagine, the urge to update was too great. That's all I need to say about it, really. <strong>

**Just to explain, the text in italics is Light's innermost feelings, the sorts of things he won't narrate in the normal way because it's so incriminating to him. It's gonna be like this from now one, so do remember. **

**Other than that, just wait for the next chapter, when it comes, and please R&R!**


	4. III Confined

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**Thanks to the power of Attorney, one certain writer of high-quality Vampire fiction has banned the use of her work on this site (you know the one), leaving us, more-or-less, with the dregs of the genre. With this in mind, let's praise our various deities that this is fanfiction, and thus changeable… **_**hint, hint. **_

* * *

><p>Chapter III<p>

Confined

"Now," said Neferet, a hand on my should as she led me up from the boy's dorm common room and down the corridor lined with doorways, stopping at a sky-blue-coloured door, "this is your new room, where you will stay for the next four years, if you make the Change." _Or if you don't kill me first, more like._ "The rest of the fledglings are busy studying or taking part in leisure activities, so your room-mate will not be back for a while, I expect. So, take this as an opportunity to unpack and get settled in. Please remember, your school uniform, which you'll find in your closet, must be worn at all times during term and school time, the only exception being on weekends when you don't need to wear the uniform, and when you leave the campus, in which case no part of the uniform may be worn.

"I noticed you hadn't brought any bed linen with you, unlike most fledglings, so you'll find the House of Night standard-issue linen in the bottom of your closet. Don't worry," she said, leaning in, whispering in my ear as though she was about to impart a big secret, "They're actually a lot better than they sound."

My rucksack on my shoulder, she pushed me into the new room, closing the door swiftly behind her, trapping me. A childish part of me was tempted to open the door and stick my tongue out at her back, just for that small piece of satisfaction. Thankfully, that childish side was equally small, and I resisted the temptation, sure that she'd just as soon cut it off if she caught me.

Surveying the space into which I'd been condemned, I'd had to admit that it wasn't all that bad, for the lair of a young vampyre. The space on the occupied side, though fairly contained, wasn't what I'd call 'maintained to a satisfactory degree': The bed was unmade, and the pencils and the pens were laying on their sides in a small mess on the desk, some having even fallen on the floor under the desk – obviously, they had just been used and left with no regard whatsoever for simple tidiness. A couple of articles of clothing lay on the bed as well, and a few shoes lay on the floor at the bottom of the bed, right where anyone could've tripped over them. Obviously, this new blood-sucking roommate of mine needed a few lessons in domestics, and I just happened to be the best there was to teach him – that is, if his vampyric savagery would allow him to be civilised and listen.

Walking over to the barren bed, I set my rucksack there, took off my shoes, and put them underneath the desk, out of the way (Merely a temporary spot until the closet had been investigated thoroughly to a Yagami family approved standard (my mother being a precursor for such a standard, and the imparter of the domestic knowledge, as well as the perfectionist in this subject shaped by a very handy if neurotic case of OCD to boot)). My own side, in its empty state, would be far preferable than the state it would soon hold once everything had been packed into its proper place, but that couldn't be helped. As long as my possessions fit in a manner that was both uncluttered and seemly, I'd survive, somehow.

_If the vampyres didn't get me first._

A quick inspection of the closet found several articles of clothing hung up and ready to be worn, all of them coloured either black, deep purple, or both. The sweaters and blazers, with the way that they were different and yet matching, indicated their status as uniforms. Laying each of the articles neatly on the bed, I looked each of them over, particularly a sweater, noticing the silver emblem embroidered on the left breast: A hand-stitched spiral circle that almost shimmered in the soft light of the bedroom, beautiful in its uniqueness. For a moment, I could've almost imagined that it was actually older than this House of Night's residents and founders, that it didn't belong to a culture built by murderers.

With the sweater held up, and the symbol staring at me in the face, a feeling of both loss and attainment, of comforting exotica ran up my spine and through my mind for a moment, a warm shiver rather than a cold one. There was no going back now: I definitely 'wasn't in Kansas anymore', as the No-Hopers would say.

The moment gone, I found myself again, angry rather than comforted. Why should I feel this, this sympathy (was it?) for vampyres? They didn't deserve it, whatsoever. Although it was true I wasn't in Kansas anymore, that I was a stranger in a strange land, there was no way I was going to allow myself to belong to their school. I would wear their symbols if I must, but I would not declare fealty to them. I would remain a complete stranger if that's what it took, even to my roommate.

Laying the sweater carefully back down on the bed, I took a cautionary look at the closed room door before stripping myself of my old clothes and into the new uniform, slipping on a black dress shirt from the closet, the sweater (deep purple, with black plaid lines), and finding out a pair of acceptably clean tailor-fit black slacks from the rucksack. Standing up newly dressed in the uniform, I looked myself up and down, half glad, half creeped out at the way they seemed to fit me, as though Neferet or some other vampyre had measured me in my sleep. _Perhaps for my pine box?_

Trying not to dwell on that not-so-nice thought, I set to work instead on the bed, pulling out the linen, comforter, and pillows from the bottom of the closet. They didn't seem awful, as Neferet had warned me, the material feeling smooth and soft as I made the bed with them, giving me a feeling of anticipation for sleep later on, whenever it was that the fledglings were allowed to go to bed. The design of the comforter, like the sweaters, was simple yet pleasant – black with deep purple plaid lines, and a silver crescent moon set in the top left hand corner. In fact, the simplicity of it strangely suited me, and-

_No! It shouldn't suit me. Don't admit that!_

I set it neat upon the bed. The bed made, I put all of my possessions on my shelves and on the desk, making a point to the anonymous roommate by putting them away neat and tidy, in a long-ago remembered frequency and order that only made sense to me, myself and I.

Finally finished, I settled down on the newly-made bed, waiting for the mysterious roommate to show himself, hopefully with a set of manners and a side-order of tolerability, if I was going to live with a blood-sucker.

And if he didn't? Well, I'd most likely send him back to the store with the right money and an added bitch slap, if I dared. But, until then, all I could do was settle down on my new bed with a Suzuki Koji novel, the Japanese script a comfort to me after this series of traumatic events. And, as the Ancient Greeks often said, "If you can't get your own problems into perspective, go to the theatre and moan about everyone else's".

By the time I'd sat down to read, it was 9:30 (in the PM, I presumed) according to the roommate's alarm clock on his bedside table, and if his calendar was correct, then 23 hours and 45 minutes had passed since I'd been given the Denyxinil.

By 9:45, I was still sitting on my bed, my back against the wall, knees folded up to my chest and deeply engrossed in my book when the roommate suddenly arrived, throwing open the door with a bang and practically screaming with joy. Before I knew it, he'd thrown his arms around me, squeezing the breath out of me, book squished against my chest and his nails digging into me in his… enthusiasm? Bloodlust? Murderous anticipation?

I yelled out with surprise at the attack, horrified, trapped. Was this how they planned to kill me? In the rush, I pushed him away hard. Making to stand up on my bed, I curled up my fists, held up to defend against attack, feet shoulder-width apart. Back to the wall, I watched as he fell to the floor, landing… on his backside? Like a pathetic little child?

And yet, he was a child – a teenager, barely my age by the look of him. His hair was sandy-blond and tussled like a schoolboy's, and his eyes were large and light blue, like a puppy's. "S-sorry." He whimpered, eyes watering up, on the verge of crying.

The vampyres were out to kill me, and they sent a mere child to do it? Obviously, some underestimation had taken place on their part. Was he even a vampyre fledgling to begin with?

No… the blue crescent outline was there on his forehead, as it would be for any fledgling. He must still be in his first year of the Change then, barely Marked – a child in all sense of the word, both biologically and mentally by the way he was crying at my admonition.

Sighing, I allowed myself to do the last thing I thought I'd do for a vampyre, even a fledgling: I took pity on him, relaxing my stance, no longer poised to attack. He looked harmless enough, after all. "I'm sorry," I said, "You'd taken me by surprise, that's all. It's okay, really."

He sniffed, drying his tears, "You mean it?" he asked.

"Of course." I stepped off the bed, holding out my hand to him, trying not to wince as he took it and got himself off the ground. "Shall we start over?" I asked, watching as he dusted himself off.

"S-sure." He replied, a smile replacing his previous inclement expression. "I'm Jack, Jack Twist." He stated, beaming like a trusting child.

"I'm Light," I replied, "Light Asahi."

"Light?" he asked, "Is that your real name, or did you just pick that out?" His voice was pleasant as he asked, merely curious, not spiteful.

"Well, I suppose I did both." I replied, using a sheepish tone and feigning shyness. I barely knew him, so it would only be natural.

"I think it's cool!" he declared, almost blushing. _Is he trying to butter me up? _"It's a great thing for all races to get along!" _Nope, the race card. _It had been a while since someone last referred to me as being foreign, or of a 'different race'. While it was true that the No-Hopers I once lived with were from all over the world, race was very rarely an issue: Only the older No-Hopers had a problem with that to begin with, but after they got transferred to the Eternal Care Unit and left thanks to the early concoctions of the Denyxinil, no one thought to resurrect their xenophobic views.

Besides, in an environment where it was rare for two No-Hopers to share the same common tongue, and teaching each other anything other than English was almost pointless, it was then even more pointless to try expressing hate in a way that the victim could understand. And thusly, Racism became an equally pointless pastime for the No-Hopers.

"Yeah," I replied, "I suppose it is."

The conversation quickly deteriorated from there. Jack was obviously shy in the presence of new company, and while I was quite adept at adapting to new situations and acting accordingly, I was caught off guard by the odd situation here – a vampyre that wasn't trying to kill me? That was trying to make friends with me? I'd never expected that scenario, as most people wouldn't expect a wolf to raise human children. _What's this? Playing with your food?_

"So, er," Jack began, stuttering, "Light?"

"Yeah?"

"I like what you did with your hair."

"Oh? What do you mean?" I frowned slightly, confused by what he meant. Compared to what some people liked to do with their hair, my own hairstyle was not that unusual. I'd only ever had it trimmed, and made sure to brush it well in the mornings, so there can't really be that much to talk about concerning it.

"I mean, it's so, you know, _unique_?"

"Unique?" Wanting to see what he meant for myself, I made for the en suite bathroom, going inside and closing the door behind me without asking to be excused, leaving him standing there on his lonesome.

Leaning against the sink, and peering into the mirror, I couldn't help but be shocked at the sight: My hair. My perfectly chestnut brown hair (unusual in Japan) had become a deep, vivid red with an even deeper sheen like – dare I say it – blood. Hurriedly, I combed my fingers through it, searching for a wound that may have bled and stained through my hair, or even any strand of brown left untouched, a classic sign of an amateur dye job – a prank gone wrong.

But there was none of that. Just dark red strands in the same good condition as it had always been, as though it was just naturally growing out of my head, as genetically part of me as my brown eyes, which were… still the same brown, thank God.

While still at the mirror, I took the time to check out the rest of the damage. My eyebrows, for one thing, had taken on the same red shade of my hair, my lashes (once typically dark) now possessing the ability to shine red in the light, if one looked closely enough. The colour had even covered the roots with no hint of brown left, as I'd found when I lifted up my fringe to inspect the hairline.

Thankfully, that was the only thing that had changed. I still had the long jagged white scar that sat about half-an-inch or so below the hairline and above the left eyebrow, almost identical to the one carved into the inside of my right arm. Apart from that it suited, it was the only reason I kept such a fringe and didn't comb my hair back as my father had been so keen on doing. The scar tissue, still deep and slightly puckered at the edges after all these years, was still as vivid as when I'd got it, especially in the contrast to the new paleness to my skin, now more of an ivory shade than the original tan. I would've thought the person staring back at me to be ill or sun-deprived, had I not known that this person was me, and that this wasn't truly the case.

Whether it was down to the Denyxinil or general weakness, it still took an unreasonable amount of time before I noticed an even more pressing issue, set in the centre of my forehead, staring back at me, cruelly mocking, taunting, jeering-

"Light?" Came a concerned voice muffled by the door, "Are you alright? You don't need any help, do you?"

Took off my guard by the query, it was a while before I could make myself respond. "No, I'm alright!" I shouted back, making myself heard from the other side of the door. "I thought you were saying that someone had been messing with it, but it's alright – it's natural."

"Okay! Lunch is on in a few minutes, so hurry up, okay?"

I merely gave a non-committal '_un_' in response as I focused my attention on finger-brushing my fringe back into position over my forehead, covering the offending article until such a time as when I could deal with it. _Maybe never?_

Stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door, I found myself practically nose-to-nose with Jack, who was holding up a pair of my shoes. "You better put these on quick!" he said, smiling wider than a Staffordshire bull terrier. "You don't wanna be late for lunch!"

Tanking the shoes off him, I sat back down on the bed to put them on, only to stop halfway through trying up the first one. Did I really want to see what these creatures called 'lunch'? What would be on the menu tonight? One very rare steak, extra bloody and still mooing? Red wine, diluted with a fresh serving of A rhesus positive? _No thank you. I'm not a monster, and nor am I French._

I barely looked up at him as I carried on tying up the other shoe, instead taking my time to make my excuse. "No thank you, I don't feel that hungry right now." Actually, I was extremely hungry, practically starving even, but as if I'd admit that to him. "Would it be alright for me to just stay in and use the kitchen instead?" I'd seen the kitchen on the way through the dorm, and watched as one of the resident boys opened the fridge, revealing fruit, vegetables, and other health foods. That would certainly be much better than the prospect of tearing open a cow blessed by Satan.

"Nonsense!" he responded, still smiling from ear to ear. "You've gotta meet all of my cool friends! Trust me; you do _not _want to start out here with no friends: The worst things happen if you do!"

_Like what? No one protects you from getting mauled by the 'students' and becoming the prized carcass in a massive scholastic free-for-all? Sounds about right._

"No, I think I'll just make do with socialising with the kettle instead for tonight. Today's been a bit eventful, you know?" I made my smile a little strained, as though I was barely trying to mask an upset stomach.

"Well… I suppose if you're not feeling too good… but you still have to come to the dining hall and sit with us!" Grabbing hold of my wrist, he started dragging me out of the door, a huge bundle of energy wrapped up in a small, over-enthusiastic package.

Already weakened by the attack of pain that had brought me here, I soon gave up the fight, letting myself be pulled along to whatever Satanic ritual they were planning, barely letting myself hope that, whoever these 'cool friends' of his were, they were slightly more bearable than Jack was, and hopefully not intent on sucking my blood.

* * *

><p><strong>As you can see, the use of italics – as established in the last chapter – is here to stay, and will be for a very long time. Believe it or not, but this has been planned out to the full, more-or-less. While I did say that British only idiomsterms may end up written in this pages, I am making a concentrated effort to use American ones, such as the terms used in the HON series. Now, is this a good time to say that you really should tell all your friends about this one? I know it's Death Note and the HON series, but that's no reason not to read it. **

**Until next time, I suppose. **

**Thank you, and please R&R. **


	5. IV Forced

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**The whole veritalisation of Homosexual stereotypes and such starts to come in here, and if the Cast duo do **_**not**_** take the hint, I may have to confiscate their writing equipment. This may prove difficult, but I'm enlisting in the help of the SWAT team right now!**

* * *

><p>Chapter IV<p>

Forced

ZOEY

Stupid friends! Why didn't they understand that those secrets I kept were for their own good? Whether they know it or not, Neferet would've definitely found out if they knew – that hag bitch resisting the opportunity to read my ex-friends' minds to get information on me would be like me trying to resist a nice, tall glass of refreshing full-fat brown pop. With ice. And a classic curly straw. Why didn't they get that at all?

Just attempting to handle the Twins' impression of _Gossip Girl_'s hateful Blair, or _Buffy_'s Cordelia is making me tired, not to mention mad. So really, all I can do is pick at my salad and nurse my brown pop with tiny sips, all the while letting their crap go in one ear and out the other. I'd laugh at the stupid metaphor (or idiom, or whatever it is), were I not too mad at them to feel happy.

Without warning, Jack bound up to us with his tray, narrowly spilling his glass of tea as he scooted himself into the booth and sat with Damien, smiling broadly in his puppy-like way at him. Following not far behind was a stranger, a fledgling I hadn't seen before – an Asian boy wearing his new HON uniform, despite the fact that class wasn't due to start for a while. Obviously – and that was without looking at the symbol on his sweater – he was a Third Former, the newest new kid around here until the next one. Even as a Third Former, he seemed older: Although he was handsome, with flawless skin and practically-perfect features, he had this permanent air of seriousness about him, as though the Architect built him that way (yeah, total Sci-Fi geek, I get it), with narrowed eyes and a scowling mouth. Even his deep (blood?) red hair did nothing to lift the solemnity in his manner.

Perhaps, if I got to know the boy better, he could tell me who did the professionally good dye job on his hair.

But yes, he was totally uptight. The complete and utter opposite of Jack, who spent most of his time babbling to Damien, and probably kissing him when we're not looking, the former of which he was doing right now. Why in the name of the great Goddess they were hanging out together was anyone's guess.

"Can you believe I got a new roommate?" Jack chirped, almost wriggly with delight, "I know Neferet told me, like, yesterday, but it was still a total surprise! And so soon after Erik, too!" Ah, so that made sense. How else would two guys on opposite sides of the dork scale be hanging out? (As in one of them being firmly on it, and the only being, like, totally off). I'd say that Stevie Rae and I were a prime example (her being a total Kenny Chesney fan, and me still thinking that European Magical schools are a great idea), but she's not my roommate any more, and that would be cheating.

Meanwhile, the new kid was still stood up by the table, holding his tray. He looked totally uncomfortable standing there like a dork, probably not sure if any of us were going to scoot up and give him room, or if inviting himself to sit here would be too forward. Tearing their stank eyes away from me, the Twins began eyeing up the new kid instead, sending him total flirtation signals. Typical. The moment one perfect guy (a.k.a Loren Blake) goes, they totally mourn his death like his widows, and the moment one new perfect guy moves in all is forgotten. And they call Aphrodite the hag bitch from Hell. Go figure.

Like the boy-crazy girls they were, Shaunee slid out of the booth to let him slide in next to Erin. Taking the invitation, he slid in gracefully next to Erin, watching with discomfort as Shaunee sat in next to him, leaving him crammed in a rather formidable Twin sandwich.

"Everyone," piped up Jack, now finished with his babbling to Queen Damien, "This is my new roommate, Light Asahi!" Fiddling nervously with his hair a little, Light lifted a hand in greeting, mumbling something that could've been a hello.

"I'm Shaunee Cole," Shaunee said, giving him one of her seductress smiles.

"I'm Erin Bates," Erin purred, mirroring Shaunee's expressions and gestures exactly.

"We're twins." They said together, demonstrating their Twinness. Damien rolled his eyes at the pair, and they giggled in unison. Eyes fixed firmly on their prey, they seemed to ignore the deer-caught-in-headlights look he wore as he nodded slowly, acknowledging but not believing.

"I bet you are." He said, focusing instead on the two glasses of water on his tray, and the four white salt packets next to them.

"They're not really twins," supplied Damien, being his usual studious self, "with Erin being an extremely white girl from Tulsa, and Shaunee being of Jamaican descendant and a lovely mocha colour from Connecticut. Still, they may as well have been separated from birth, they're that in tune."

Light was tearing open a packet of salt and – _ewww_! – pouring it into a glass of water, upending it all before opening another one. "So," he said, inclining his head slightly to Shaunee, "I think I've heard the name Cole before. You're not related to Dr Saxon Cole, the Pharmacologist?"

"Yeah, that's right." Shaunee said, eyes a little wide, obviously in surprise. "How do you even know him? I didn't think you were into _that_ kind of thing." The emphasis on the one sounded almost seductive coming from her, as though she was trying to charm him out of his slacks right there and then. The movement of her left arm meant that she was no doubt promoting one of her signature moves, placing her hand on his thing and squeezing it suggestively. The poor guy made none of the usual indications that the moves were working on him, as they would with other boys. He just stirred up the solution of salty water, an uncomfortable look on his face before answering.

"No, but I read his research on vaccines and their effects on human physiology. I have to say I was impressed, especially by the detailed studies. Very impressive, I must say."

"Uh… huh." Yep, the girl was lost now, more than confused by Light's talk as she usually was with Damien's. And the boy's accent didn't make it that much easier, either – English was obviously not his first language. His accent was mainly Chinese or Japanese (I could never tell which), with a Queen's English sort of intonation to it. Not only that, but there was a slight Inland Northerner accent too, as though he'd picked something up from upstate New York or something. The result? I was really wishing I had that knack for understanding accents that some people seemed to just have, and not others (like me).

""Well, I'm Damien Maslin," the resident boy expert continued, "I'm here if you need any help settling into classes. You've already met the perpetually cute Jack Twist over here." Jack just blushed, giving a downward wrist-flicking, _Oh you! _kind of gesture. "And on my right here, with the expanded Marks and Goddess-given power to kick major butt, is our High-Priestess-in-Training Zoey Redbird."

Yes, Queen Damien, thanks for the totally high-profile introduction. You may as well just set up an official website for me and be done with it. Still, at least you're not talking crap about me. I must thank you later for that.

"So, does that make you the leader of this group?" Light asked, reaching out a hand to shake forearms with me, which we did. His light brown eyes, I noticed, were fixed on my Marks, but not in awe or fascination – although I suppose there was some fascination to it – no, there was definitely something different to the look, but it was too well guarded to be spotted. Only that gut feeling told me I wasn't just seeing things, that I was probably right.

"I suppose you could say that," I replied, adding hastily, "not that I appointed myself or anything."

"Fair enough," he replied, giving a slight smile and picking up his glass, "if there's one thing we should learn, it's that the people who want to be leaders, who want the top jobs, are exactly the sort of people who shouldn't be trusted with those jobs to begin with." Finishing the sentiment, his lifted the glass in a sort of toast, before downing the salty water, not stopping 'til it was completely drained. Now empty, he sat the glass back on the table, turning his attention to the second glass, which he began filling with salt the same way as before.

"Hey, slow down there, stud – do you want to give yourself a heart attack?" The voice, laced with bitchiness, was all too familiar to us, as of late, and yet still a surprise to us. Why was she here? Didn't she run off two days ago? Didn't she lose her Mark? Isn't she human now? But, of course, like the icky, gross stomach flu, she just had to come back again, did our bitchy, occasionally useful, hag botch from hell nemesis Aphrodite.

"Oh," Light said, looking up at her from his glass, "no, I'm not trying to give myself a heart attack, but thanks for your concern." The smile he gave her was probably meant to look kind, but was almost condescending, in a _What do you know? _kind of way.

"Oh, that's alright. If you want, I'll help you out with anything, and I mean _anything_."

"Aphrodite," I cut in, sensing a catfight between the Twins and Aphrodite about ready to rumble, "This is Light Asahi. He's new here."

"I can see that." She said to me, eyes still fixed on him like white on rice. "I'm Aphrodite LaFont, but you can call me Aphrodite." She leaned forward, perfectly manicured fingernails fingering at his hair. "I'll be right here waiting for you when you get tired of the Dorkamese Twins over here and want a _real_ woman." She began playing with his fringe, face practically inches from his as he smiled back in that mocking way of his. Uh, what. A. Slut. She'd probably been hanging around Vamp-Mountain Darius earlier, and now she was follicle-fiddling some guy she just met (ewww… fiddling).

"Alright." He replied, tone breezy as he took hold of her hand before she could push his fringe back, and pried it off himself, letting it drop on the table. Honestly, I've never seen a straight guy drool so little in front of that hag before, or even remotely resist. "And I'll be right over here if I do."

"You hear that-" said Shaunee, catching onto the 'if'.

"You ho bag?" continued Erin, following the lead, "Light isn't interested in trash,"

"And he's good the best quality right here!" Shaunee finished.

"So why don't you catch some other boy-"

"In your nasty crotch-web?"

"Got it?" They finished in unison, glaring Aphrodite down like wolves challenging an Alpha. The trio remained locked like that for a full minute before Aphrodite flipped her hair, winked back at Light, turned on her heel and twitched off, with not even a snide comment as a leaving present. Whatever happened to her in the last two days, it must have been weird enough to have her act even a little bit unlike her bitchy self.

Without the resident hag around, the Twins continued their flirting, "So what will it be, Bright boy?" Shaunee asked, eyes back on Light, a hand ruffling his red locks, "Would you like a nice, hot cappuccino?"

"Or is a vanilla latte more your style?" Erin enquired, hand gently resting on his arm.

Picking up the second glass and draining it in one, Light gave a coy, if charming smile to both of them before setting the glass back down. "I don't know," he said, his voice laced with charm, "but I've always been something of a caffeine addict."

"Ah! How nice to see that you're settling in already!" I glanced up from the scene of heavy flirting to see Neferet standing by our table. At the sound of her voice, Light looked up from the Twins to the High Priestess, his face freezing once more into its solemn mask at her presence, almost displaying hate. Does he know about her evil side already, or is he just intuitive? Whatever gave him the idea; it's definitely leading him right.

"Oh," he replied, head bowed respectfully and voice devoid of feeling, "thank you for your concern Neferet. I think I'll be alright from now on, with this group."

"I'm sure you will," Neferet smiled, "But you will also need a mentor. Until a more suitable candidate can be found, Professor Lankford will henceforth act as your mentor. You will, of course, meet him tomorrow."

"I understand."

"Excellent." Turning to face the rest of us, practically ignoring Light, she spoke to us, all except for Light and I grinning at her in ignorance, "Zoey, Erin, Shaunee, Damien? I have called a special Council Meeting for tonight at ten thirty, and I expect you to be there. I can't very well run it without our House of Night's gifted Prefects, now can I? So, since it's almost ten o'clock, I think you'd better hurry up, or you will be late."

"We won't be!" Damien and the Twins answered perky and perfect, utter fools for her.

"Oh Neferet," I cut in, raising my voice to let it carry, "that reminds me: Aphrodite will be joining us. Since she was gifted by Nyx with an affinity for earth, we all agree that she should be on the Prefect Council, too."

"Oh, but how can this be? She is no longer a member of the Dark Daughters, let alone the Prefect Council."

I played the innocent student card, using the tone that came with it, "Did I forget to tell you? I'm so sorry; it must have been because of the awful things that have been happening! Aphrodite rejoined the Dark Daughters. She swore to Nyx and to me that she'll uphold our new code of conduct, and I allowed her back in. I mean, isn't that what you want – for her to come back to our Goddess?"

For a moment, she didn't say anything, and in that moment, she looked ready to slap me, or even to reject the offer. But, of course, she wouldn't want to cause a scene, and so she did neither.

Finally, she said, "Why, how generous of our Zoey to welcome Aphrodite back into the bosom of the Dark Daughters, especially as Zoey will be made responsible for Aphrodite's conduct. But, you seem to be comfortable with a great deal of responsibility, isn't that right Zoey?" She looked right into my eyes then, baring so much hatred in them that I could barely breathe.

"Do be careful you don't strangle under all the pressure, Zoeybird. I'll go inform Aphrodite of my approval now." Her hatred vanished, and her voice was all sweetness to match, a torch of light once more. "Blessed be." Neferet left as simply as that, with nothing more to say.

* * *

><p>LIGHT<p>

After Neferet's talk with Zoey Redbird and her loyal Scooby Gang, Jack and Damien (who, as it happened, was his boyfriend) practically frog marched me out of the dining hall, past the guards known as Sons of Erebus warriors and down the path to the boys' dorm, as Damien had a full half hour before his meeting, and neither of them were sure I knew the way back to my own room yet. While I could certainly say that I could find the way to my own bed both in the dark and blindfolded, I was still more than a little confused.

Obviously, there was still a lot more about the vampyres that I had to learn.

_So there really is more to them than murder and blood… or at least for the fledglings there is. _

"So, Light," Damien asked, watching me from the corner of his eyes, "how are you finding the House of Night so far?"

"It seems nice," I answered, offering him a small, coy smile, "I mean, the students here seem friendly." Actually, they seemed more friendly than I was implying, but as if I needed to elaborate.

"Better than at your old school?" Damien asked.

"You could say that. Besides, I've got a great roommate here to help me out." Turning to my left, where Jack walked beside me, I watched as he practically squirmed in delight, happy to have made a good impression on his new roommate for the next four years.

_Or so he thinks. He really is a pathetic child, barely even teenage by human standards. Why would the vampyres send him to spy on me?_

Damien's contentment showed, no doubt because of the compliments I'd paid his boyfriend. "I'm glad you're settling in well. Most new fledglings find their first few days here to be the most testing they ever have here. I know I did." His features saddened now, as though he was reliving the memory in his head.

Shaking himself, the sadness disappeared once more, and he was just plain glad again. "But that doesn't matter, what's done is done. What matters now is that you get settled in properly. Your mentor will always be there to help you, of course, but we will be, too."

_A fledgling vampyre… willing to help me? Now that I'd like to see! No doubt he'd much rather help me onto his plate, and my blood into his cup, but… his honest tone must mean something… right?_

"Thank you," I finally responded, allowing myself to bow my head at him, to give undeserved respect. "I'd really appreciate that."

Damien just smiled back, inclining his head in response. Unprepared for the gesture as he probably was, he accepted it all the same.

"You know," said Jack, eyes practically smiling with delight, perpetually cheerful, "when I first came here, I was just full of questions, and thankfully, I had Damien to answer them! If you've got any questions, you can ask him any time – he's a genius!"

Damien laughed quietly, a laugh coloured with embarrassment. "I'm not sure I'm as clever as that, but I'll do my best to answer. If I can't answer anything, then you'll be best asking Professor Lankford – he's married to Professor Anastasia, the Spells and Rituals professor, so he knows more than most professors do."

I had to give a moment of thought to that one. Was this offer an honest one or not? What did I need answering first? "Well, I heard the High priestess and Zoey Redbird talk about Nyx earlier. I know that vampyres worship someone named Nyx, but who is she really?"

Jack's eyes seemed to sparkle at the name, as did Damien's, "Oh, Nyx is just the best," Jack gushed, unable to control himself.

"What Jack means," supplied Damien, "is that Nyx is a benevolent goddess, to whom our kind are considered her children. No, she is more like the Goddess, the only Goddess we worship and recognise. She is known by many names, but here she is Nyx, the embodiment of night itself. It is due to her that vampyre society is matriarchal in nature, although it must be noted that men are valued as protectors, warriors and consorts, as is Nyx's consort, Erebus."

"Ah, I see," I nodded in acknowledgment, "but what's this about 'rituals and spells'? It's not all about blood-drinking, is it?"

Jack laughed at the question, giggling like it was a funny joke. "No," he said gleefully, "of course not! There might be blood-drinking in some rituals, but we're too young for that!"

Damien nodded, "Yes, as blood-drinking remains abhorrent to fledglings until much later into the Change, we Third Formers – or first years – won't encounter this. Rituals, such as the casting of circles, are a way in which vampyres worship and pray to Nyx, and gain her aid. While members of the Dark Daughters will cast circles at their meetings, the whole school holds a ritual to Nyx twice a week, and also at the full moon." I must have shown my feelings of apprehension, of uncertainty on my face, for he gave a smile of comfort before continuing. "Don't worry, you'll enjoy them – they're one of the superlative aspects of life at the House of Night."

"The whole deal with rituals is explained in The Fledgling Handbook 101 too, so there's no way to not know about Goddess-worship here!" Jack chipped in, practically hanging off my arm now.

_And this is what turns mere children into murderers? Surely that's not it, is it?_

My feelings of confusion must've transferred onto my face, for the blond hanger-on added, "Everyone gets a copy of The Fledgling Handbook, so if you don't get it tonight, you'll have it by tomorrow for sure!"

The happy faces of the two fledglings were becoming painful to look at, too difficult to accept. Turning my face away from them, I found myself looking at the boys' dormitory entrance, our conversation having carried the time of our journey away. Looking back at the couple, the two of them beaming at me, holding hands, radiating bliss like body heat. It was just so, so…

_Repugnant, disgusting, obnoxious…_

My stomach began to turn, a sick queasiness coming on, with a dizziness that unsteadied my mind and my body. Feeling a deep, cold chill grip me, I held my stomach. Saliva, hot and fluid, filled my mouth, accompanied by a shock of contractions, painful and-

… _Nauseating._

Covering my mouth instinctively, I ran into the dorm without the others, up the steps and down the corridor, barely making it into my room and into the bathroom before vomiting into the toilet, receiving the bitter taste of acid and bile on my lips. Kneeling down before the porcelain bowl, taking up what would probably be a nightly residence, I heaved again and again, unable to cease. Ignoring the footsteps of Damien and Jack from behind the bathroom door, I continued, determined for Plan A to succeed.

The Denyxinil was still coursing through my system, and if purging it from my body involved spewing up the poison, then so be it.

At least I won't have to die the way of the lab rat, of a No-Hoper.

* * *

><p><strong>There. I have heard tell that the use of my 'prize term' No-Hoper will get annoying, or over-done, but please be warned, in this fic, it is a sort of official term, to the point that even Primrose and Summers will use it. As for the use of a different POV, this has come from the technique used by the Casts in 'Tempted' and onwards, so I consider it non-canon not to use it. If some people feel the need for me to explain my chapter titles, then I will – either that or wait until the last chapter, where I'll make a list at the end for you to enjoy and such. Whatever, it's something to do. <strong>

**Thanks to generosity and some under-hand self-advertising, I have now got readers for this fic, and some actual reviews. Now I know that I'm writing for someone(s), I will carry on with gusto! **

**Until next time,**

**Thank you, and please R&R!**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	6. V Enraged

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**And thanks to a generous donation to the rescue mission, all twenty four cats are now alive and well. In other news, the Casts, a mother-and-daughter writing duo, have been taken hostage, and exclusive video footage from the writer-nappers shows them to be locked away in a basement, tied together with what looks to be a rainbow flag. Police are sceptical. **

* * *

><p>Chapter V<p>

Enraged

_**Warm, light brown eyes gazed into mine, radiating all their love and care, like the Sun. She stroked my cheek, a smile beaming on her face, and I couldn't help but grin back, giggling with joy as she cooed, whispering my name. Picking me up, and out of my highchair, she held me close, and my hands grabbed onto her tightly, unwilling to let go as she slowly turned on the spot, singing her lullaby.**_

_**I let my gaze fall behind her, watching the world spin gently by as he returned through the doorway, still wearing his work suit. I watched as he put down his briefcase, and ended the spinning, enveloping us, both her and I in a bear-like hug. Moving apart eventually, he gave her a kiss before pressing one to my forehead.**_

_**Patting my back, she began to sway and rock this time, shushing me to Nod, my eyelids drooping with her song. The motions soothed, and I was soon asleep.**_

_**Suddenly, the phone rang, and I was laid on the sofa, wide awake now. I observed as she went to the phone and picked it up, pressing the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" she whispered, a look of confusion blossoming onto her face as no sound came; the phone just continued to ring. **_

"_**Hello?" She spoke again, this time a little louder. Nothing answered her, nothing but the ringing. As her expression turned from confusion to worry, a thin red line etched itself slowly along the side of her neck, through the jugular, blood seeping silently through and down her neck. Slashes tore through her clothing without command, as though by an invisible knife-wielder, and yet she did nothing, nothing but wait for the caller that never answered, for the ending of the ringing that never stopped, even as incisions covered her, leaking blood until it covered her, soaking into the floorboards, a stain that could never budge. **_

_**Searching for him, the Man, the Protector, I finally found him on the floor, bleeding just the same, eyes wide open, clothes torn to shreds. Not knowing what to do, I did nothing, not even when I found blood on my own hands, fresh and wet, seeping from my arm, dripping from my head.**_

_**Even as she fell and joined him, the phone torn from her grasp, it carried on ringing, swinging from its cord.**_

With a start, my eyes opened, and I covered them, grimacing against the light of the day that shone to them. It was too bright, too irritating. Even the echo of the phone carried on into the conscious world, still filling my ears in the otherwise silence. My heart still beat fast in fear, and I looked over to my bedside table to see my cell phone vibrating, knocking with a hum against the wood.

Jack still asleep, undisturbed, I picked up the phone and pulled the covers over my head, staring at the electric light of the screen: It was Yamamoto, a childhood friend to whom I hadn't spoken in five years. Pressing to receive the incoming call, I put the phone to my ear, whispering like the woman, "Hello?"

The answer was almost immediate. "Yagami-kun? Is that you?" The voice was significantly deeper than when I'd last heard it, but it was familiar all the same.

"Yes," I answered, "it's me."

"You sound tired. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but you would be tired too, in my position."

"What do you mean, in your position?"

"It's now 7AM where I am, not," I paused a moment, converting time zones in my head, "9PM where you are. I got to bed around midnight, so I'm still tired."

Yamamoto laughed, no doubt because I was correct. "I bet you are. Sleep deprived, after all these years, and you can still run circles around me."

"And don't you forget it." We both laughed at my response – it was an exchange we'd started years ago, and had come back to often, repeating it like it was going out of fashion. It had been five years since the last repeat, and now it was nostalgic, almost comforting, a reminder of once had been.

The quiet laughter running its course, I became silent again, waiting for him to tell me why he'd called in the first place. Instead, of course, like the Yamamoto I had known and put up with, he continued with another piece of mindless conversation. "So, where are you right now?" he asked, concerned, "Still in the US?"

"Yes," I whispered, "I'm still in Tulsa." Giving a small sigh, I prepared myself for the big reveal, to tell him the one thing I always knew I'd have to one day. "Look, Yamamoto-kun, there's something I need to tell you."

"Oh?" he asked, "Can it wait? I've got a message for you from your dad. He's been trying to reach you for two days, but every time he tries, he gets a message saying he's blocked."

"Ah, yeah, there's a reason for that." I began, remembering how I'd blocked his number from calling me a week ago, determined not to be disturbed as I worked on the Denyxinil and prepared myself to become the next test subject.

"I bet there is. Listen, your dad's been trying to give you this massage for ages, so I'm not gonna miss out on giving it to you now just because you've got something to share, too."

I sighed. I hated it when he dominated the conversation like that – the only reason I'd befriended him years ago was because he was more of a listener, didn't make a habit of interrupting me, and rarely tried. "Go ahead," I said, keeping my voice down, "what is it?"

On the other end, I heard him pause, taking a deep breath before finally coming out with it. "It's your mother, Yagami-kun. She's dead."

A sudden chill ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my throat. What? What did he say? Dead? But-

"H-how?" I asked, unable to stop my voice from shaking, "How did she-"

"I don't know. Your dad wouldn't give me the details. The funeral will be on January 2nd, at the temple in Tokyo. I know you probably won't be able to make it, but I thought you'd want to know anyway."

"Right, I see." I couldn't say much more than that, lest my voice break.

"Your dad's talking about moving the rest of the family to you, to Tulsa. He doesn't want you guys to stay apart, not after this."

"I… I see." Taking a deep breath to control myself, I continued, "Tell Dad that I understand, but I'm not going to phone him back. Tell him that…" I paused, almost for effect, "I don't want him to come to America, not now, not ever."

"What?" The response was immediate horror, only to be expected. "What do mean, he can't come to America? Why don't you want to see him so badly?" He didn't understand of course, not at all. He wouldn't until I gave him a reason, not that he'd leave this lying down, given the choice.

"It's because… because I can't see him, not if I wanted to." I took a deep breath, readying myself to drop the bridge on him, to tell this friend of mine that I was living amongst the vampyres.

But, the words didn't form, instead catching in my mouth. I literally couldn't tell him, no matter how hard I tried to say it, my jaw would go slack, or my tongue would all else fail me. The confession died on my tongue. Rather than let him endure another five minutes of choking sounds and gaps of dead air, I ended the conversation, cutting it off with no pleasantries attached.

If he tried to call again, I wouldn't stop him. However, I would have to make the point of scripting my words first, for the aversion of a second meltdown.

Setting the alarm function on the cell phone for 6PM, I placed it back on the bedside table, going back under the covers to attempt to get back to sleep. At the same time, I informed my body clock that the normal rules no longer apply, that a nocturnal sleeping pattern was to be the new setting from now on.

Old rules would have to be forgotten if I was to survive, ever piece of reality to be rearranged if I wanted to stay a part of this one, or at least remain one part myself

Darwin, then, would have to be the new rule-maker here, if not the vampyres themselves.

* * *

><p>Needless to say, it wasn't until around midday that I finally drifted off the sleep, but not before closing the curtains, pacing the room for a full two hours and drinking four glasses of water to aid it. An insomnia-battling routine I'd picked up during restless nights at the Tulsa Research facility, it never failed to work for me until tonight. It didn't help at all that Yamamoto's news was still circling my mind, imprinting itself in every node and back again.<p>

_How did she die? A car? A family condition? A vampyre… again?_

All through the pacing, I tried my best to put those thoughts to bed. I knew the Yagami family medical history forwards, backwards and in ascending alphabetical order, so I knew for definite that no fatal condition was to blame. The only prevalent killers and afflicters were Obsessive Compulsive Disorder on my now-late mother's side, and Overwork on my father's, so this wasn't the problem. Car or other traffic accidents weren't very common in Japan, certainly not common enough for consideration: Dad was the only driver in the family, so if an accident had transpired, Yamamoto would've mentioned that Dad had been injured also. A hit-and-run was far too low on the probability scale for the streets of Japan.

But a vampyre? If personal experience has taught me anything, it's that this was altogether very possible, possible enough to be true. It would also explain why Yamamoto was never informed of the cause of her death.

_Perhaps because Dad doesn't want this to affect me at all. He doesn't want me to believe that vampyre is out there chasing me, that everyone I know and love will fall to a pair of fangs and a crescent-moon tattoo. _

So far, this could be the only discernable reason – the only reasonable one, of course.

Thankfully, my few hours of sleep were dreamless. Yet, they had the effect of sleeping half the time: By 6PM, I was still tired, and only half-awake. So much so that I stripped off my pyjamas and stumbled into a hot shower with no regards as to Jack being in the bathroom and brushing his teeth, too tired to recognise or even feel shame at my nakedness, or even to care. Both being males, of course, the act of him happening to see anything of my indecency during my zombie-stroll into the shower should be inconsequential – it wasn't like he'd be seeing something he didn't already possess.

Looking back on this, were I fully awake, I would've waxed horrific at the thought of being seen naked like that, and I certainly would've waited for the bathroom with something like a towel or some underwear to cover myself.

Glad that the boy had scarpered by the end of my two minute blast and scrub with hot water, I got ready as usual after that, pulling on a black pair of jeans and black dress shirt, this time teaming it with a deep purple blazer with the first year (or 'Third Former', as Jack had put it) insignia representing the labyrinth (as Damien had put it). Around my neck, I clasped a silver chain holding a silver cross pendant, tucking the relic under my shirt out of sight. Whilst the legend of vampyres being unable to stand holy artefacts as they inflict physical damage was as untrue as the myth with garlic, the nature of their own religion would hold true that the cross would affect them, nonetheless.

Pulling out the newly emptied rucksack from out of my wardrobe, I packed it with the new school timetable and the Fledgling Handbook that were waiting for me on my desk, along with a few black biro pens, and a couple of pencils. While this had barely filled the bottom of the bag, I didn't worry – I'd no doubt be greeted with a barrage of school books that I'd have to carry around with me in the event of no lockers in the halls.

Finally ready, I trudged down to the dorm room, where Damien, Jack, and a few nameless boys were eating breakfast in the kitchen extension, while others sat on sofas by the flat screen TVs. With no sign of blood, nor of raw meat, I put the cliché to the back of my mind. This wouldn't be the morning routine here, as it would seem.

Finding a packet of cornflakes in the back of the cereal cupboard, I poured myself a bowl and reheated the kettle to make myself a strong cup of coffee to get me through the night/day. Sitting down with my breakfast at the counter with the other, I began eating quietly, blocking out their mindless chatter easily. Instead, I forced myself to remember a piece of muzak that I'd heard the day before from the elevator speakers, if just to get it stuck in my head.

"Wow," said Damien, sliding over to sit by me, "you weren't kidding about the caffeine addiction, huh?" His smile, this time, was more understated, filled with concern.

"No, I wasn't." taking my mug (a HON standard designed mug in purple), I drained the rest of the coffee, ignoring the fact that it was still piping hot. Giving a sigh of refreshment, I smiled back. "Hot and strong, that's the way I like it." I watched as many of the boys did spit-takes, laughing at the evening/morning innuendo. Giving a pantomimed look of thoughtfulness, I continued. "Yeah, I've only just realised that now."

And with that piece of well-delivered dirty-talk, I'd already started to fit in. Then again, the fact that my accent made me sound like a clueless, innocent foreigner probably helped too/

_What a load of dirty-minded idiots! And to think, these are going to be the new generation of stealth hunters!_

One fledgling in particular found it funny, another Third Former, short with an athletic build, who'd collapsed into a coughing fit that warranted a minimum of two minutes recovery time. When he was finally able to breathe again, his features pulled up into a permanent grin. "You're the new kid, right?" he'd asked, wiping a laughter-tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm Drew, Drew Partain." Fixing me with a masculine glare, he stretched out a lean arm over the table and I took it, allowing his to give a brief if firm shake.

"Light Asahi." I returned, giving him a glare of my own, not breaking it until he did.

"So," he said, taking back his arm and picking up his spoon, "what do you think of the House of Night so far?"

"It's… it's okay, I guess." I replied, keeping the lie from showing itself on my face, "I mean, it's not how I expected it, but-"

"What do you mean, not how you expected?" asked Drew. "What _did_ you expect?"

"Oh Jack," Damien said, almost cooing, "He probably thought there was going to be a human sacrifice for every meal."

"Oh yeah," Drew put on an animalistic growl for his unwilling audience, "I remember those! It's where we first find some drugged-up kid and suck her _dry_ of her hot, _delicious _blood! Next, we scoop out handfuls of her fresh, _warm_ intestines, before preparing them to be burnt at the altar of Satan!

"Then, we bury our teeth into her lean, _tender _muscle, stripping it off her bones and eating til we can't eat any more! When there's nothing left but bones licked white and _clean_, and the rest of her organs, our High Priestess breaks apart her little ribcage with brute, animalistic _force_, and sinks her hands into her chest, taking out her big, beautiful, red _pulsating_ heart before blessing it in the name of the Satan-Sataniel and taking a huge, bloody bite out of it!

"Finally, we gather round once more and ravage what's left, gulping down the thick, grey, _juicy _brains and crunching through her bones like dry cornflakes, just to partake of the _luscious_ marrow inside!"

_**Deep gashes scored into pallor skin, gleaming deep, dark red… lips deathly blue, no longer moving… red stains drying brown into the carpet, into the hardwood, onto the walls… entrails walked in, walked on, tracked into fingernails, into fibres, painted on the walls in mindless frenzy… bones cracked, broken, piercing the skin, pulverised into shards… tiny, sharp, splintered pieces of bone, like…**_

Feeling the bile rise in my throat, I pushed away my bowl of cereal, barely listening to the other boys laugh at the look of discomfort and nausea that no doubt crossed my face.

_Sick. Just sick! Repulsive! Why did he… how dare they… just… just…?_

"Shut up!" I yelled, "Just shot up, you _cotton_-brained, _foul_-mouthed_, blood-sucking FOOLS!_"

Every boy present, from the ones by the counter to the one on the sofas by the televisions stared up at me, eyes wide, mouths open in shock, some even physically scared by this red-headed, psychotic newbie that couldn't take what was, in retrospect, a simple hazing from senior class-men. Looking back on the event later, I couldn't really blame them: I'd stood up out of my seat, hands slammed down on the counter and arms tensed, teeth bared and eyes narrowed in anger. The chair had been knocked onto its side, on the floor, the cornflake packet knocked onto its side until cereal poured in a continuous stream onto the floor.

"What are you?" I continued, my voice louder, fiercer, rougher, "A barbaric tribe of dim-witted, uncivilised, hunter-gathering, bestial Mesozoic fauna?"

"W-what?" whispered Jack, confusion and hurt on his face. Turning to face the whole room, I blocked it out, persevering with the rant of hate and disgust.

"You should be _ashamed_ of yourselves! And you call yourselves _fledglings_? You don't even pass as_ humans_, any of you!"

"Geez, Light," Drew muttered, "it was just-"

"It wasn't 'just' anything! I've barely been here 24 hours, and already I can see what the next four years are going to consist of: _Sick_ minds, _mind-numbing_ conversation, and disgusting, degenerative, disorganised _HELL!_"

My eyes darted rapidly, looking out for the primordial human slime-ball that was going to object, make his argument for the blood-suckers, and stand against me. But, when, after a full minute, no one said anything, did nothing but stare and cry (in Jack's case), I relaxed, picked up my rucksack-turned-school-bag from under the counter and – while resisting the urge to pick up the fallen cereal from the floor – exited the dorm, slamming the door closed behind me.

Although glad that I had escaped the feeling of being trapped in a room full of killers, I now had a full half-an-hour to wait until my first class began, and nothing to do to occupy my mind in the meantime.

That is, until I remembered the leader fledgling, Zoey Redbird. Marked with the most extensive tattooing of any fledgling (or indeed vampyre) that I have ever seen, a miracle of vampyre physiology if there ever was one, this made her the senior – and therefore most dangerous – of the fledglings, and yet the most interesting as well. While she was repellent by principle, a creature that any mortal man would find all too easy to tempt fate with, she also seemed to know more about this coven than anyone else, a veritable source of information.

Taking up my school bag, I took up the journey to the other end of campus, to the girls' dormitory, where I would wait for Zoey and her idiotic pair of sycophants to emerge, and perhaps walk to the first lesson with them. All three of them may be unappealing and repulsive, but, so far, they were the other set of my new friends that had no reason to hate me or be pissed off at me – a safer, logical option, of course.

* * *

><p><strong>There, another chapter of NoHoper! What is surprising about this is how quickly I'm blasting through it. I mean, I suppose it's because I've planned most (if not all) of this fic, and now that I know some people are actually reading it, I'm happy to work. While I know I should be working on such as AoSI and Fame Less than Infamy, this is the one that my head is loving right now, and since this is such an unusual crossover, I'm excited to try and do it justice, especially since I've wanted to do a vampire fic for a long time - the only problem has been trying not to pander to any of the stereotypes set by the modern vampire genre. Since this series is slightly better in that it has taken such a different stance with vampires (or is that vampyres?) it makes me feel better about it.<strong>

**One day, I would like to do a fic with vampires and Death Note, only without crossing over anything. Once I get some more ideas together I might do that - but not until I've done more of my other projects. Until then, do keep an eye out for my stuff - I never set out to disappoint, so hopefully you'll like what I have in store.**

**Until next time,**

**Thank you, and please R&R!**

**Ruin Takada**


	7. VI Punished

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**As the Cast duo have finally been released by their hostages, and found by doctors to now be underweight and suffering from a lack of a good meal for weeks, they now know from experience, that, just because a person is gay, doesn't automatically mean they are good cooks. **

* * *

><p>Chapter VI<p>

Punished

Following the path to the girls' dormitory, I waited for merely five minutes outside before Zoey and the blonde Aphrodite showed themselves, a small ginger cat (or kitten, perhaps?) following not far behind at a suitably lazy pace with mews of indignation. As I'd soon realised from my perusing of The Fledgling Handbook, the Twins were Fourth Formers and Aphrodite was a Sixth Former. Because of this, they would be on a different schedule to myself and I wouldn't be seeing those three in any of my lessons.

"Hey, handsome stranger," the blonde purred, her talons skimming lightly down my front, "So nice of you to come and meet us.

"It's alright." Those were all the words I could be bothers to offer her as I turned my attention instead to Zoey, a much more interesting specimen by comparison. "How did the meeting go with Neferet last night?"

The black-haired girl sighed at my question, "It wasn't boring, that's for sure. I wish it was, though."

"What do you mean?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, before Aphrodite broke it, "I may as well tell you, because you're gonna find out from someone else: A few days back, two professors were killed by the East wall – Professor Nolan, the drama professor, and Professor Blake, our Poet Laureate. Basically, thanks to a bunch of human religious extremist-types, Neferet just about declares all-out war against the humans, and that's gonna be _hell_ on my manicure."

Zoey rolled her eyes in the Sixth Former's direction, before taking up the pace. "Yeah, but before she could tell the humans, Shekinah, the High priestess of all vampyres, comes to the council meeting and tells us that we can't have the war, so Neferet goes all bat-guano crazy and scary. Meanwhile, Shekinah declares the school open now from today, and she's gonna teach poetry too."

"So… by 'High Priestess of all vampyres', you mean the leading High Priestess on the High Council in San Clemente?" As was in my nature, that read of the handbook was enough for me to memorise more than enough of the vampyres' workings and propaganda to keep me from being eaten.

"Yes," they answered in unison."

"And by 'religious extremist types', you mean…?"

"The People of Faith, yes – or at least, that's who we think are behind it." Zoey answered.

I nodded in understanding. If I could possibly hate anything or one more than the vampyres, it would probably be the People of Faith. As a research lab with confidential (to the public) aims and goals, we were often targeted by this group, who would assume that we were playing God behind the tinted windows, and so they often came led by an Elder to stand outside to protest against something that they didn't even know, let alone understand. They were only fuelled by the appearance of a No-Hoper's body whenever one was released from the building and ready to be shipped back to whatever family they had waiting for them. It was only really thanks to the building's sound-proofing that they couldn't hear our work, and we couldn't hear them.

They were meddlers, and meddlers of the worst kind at that.

"But," I continued, "why did you just tell me all this? I'm not a member of your Prefect Council, or your Dark Daughters. So I shouldn't really know any of this."

"Yeah, I know but-" Flustered, Zoey paused, just long enough for Aphrodite to take over.

"She's having one of those 'gut-feelings' of hers." she placed air-quotes around the phrase for emphasis, "She's famous for them, so she must have a good feeling about you to tell you anything, New Kid. She probably thinks you'll be in the Dark Daughters anyways-"

"No I don't! Besides, you have to promise to uphold the Code of Conduct too, and pass the Prefect Council's approval! It takes a lot of effort to get in, cos you're not just representing the club and the school when you enter, but Nyx as well, and that's a big deal!"

"This coming from the girl who looks to be covered in nothing but Nyx's approval?" I asked, allowing a playful expression. I drew a line across my forehead, notifying her impossibly expanded tattoos.

"Well, yeah!" She responded, and much too brilliantly either. "I must be doing something right if She's Marked me like this, so that's what I intend to do – and you should too if you intend to enter the Dark Daughters! This is an elite club, so you can't ruin its reputation with bad behaviour and stuff!"

"Oh, with Great Power comes Great Responsibility, and all that?" I asked, the upturned corners becoming something of a smirk. Of course, it earned a couple of wide-eyed stares, in both disgust and shock. "What can I say?" I asked, "I've have a lot of free time over the years."

Aphrodite sighed, "I used to be so popular – now look at me! I'm surrounded by dorks, and I've fallen in with the official Herd of Nerd! This shouldn't happen to someone as pretty as me!"

"Stop being such a Drama Queen." Zoey muttered. "You're a Dark Daughter too, you know!

"And really, Aphrodite," I said, using a more dulcet tone, "am I really such a bad dork, after all?"

"Of course not," she replied, turning on her seduction, flipping her long blonde hair with practiced ease. She leaned in closer, until her hand was on my shoulder, and her mouth inches away from my ear, "it just means you know how to use your _katana_!" The words were a breathless whisper, just teases for my entertainment with a hidden meaning slipped in.

_Ugh! It's enough to make your skin crawl! Not only a fledgling, but an 'experienced' one, too. Could there be anything worse that this vulgar, quite possibly diseased-_

"You've got your schedule, right?" Zoey asked, speaking deliberately louder to stop the blonde's perversion. As I answered the affirmative and fished out the schedule from my rucksack, we started walking, suddenly much more aware of the need to get to lesson on time than a second ago. Giving it to her, I watched as she read and smiled.

"Oh, cool. Vamp Soc first, Lit. third, Fencing fourth and Equestrian class sixth? You're in a buttload of my classes!" I laughed at her mild expletive, noting her preference towards G-rated profanity. "Oh," she continued, "but you're not in my Spanish class. You're in French instead. That'll be useful if you visit the other Houses of Night in Europe. What are you gonna choose for second period? Art? Drama? Music?"

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "I don't draw much, I only played the piano in elementary school, and I was never in any Drama classes."

"But can you act at all?"

I smiled. "Yes, I think I can to a decent level." _I've managed nigh on 24 hours without showing my hatred for you, and that takes more skill than most actors require, nowadays. _"Actually, I think I will take Drama, if just for something to fill the hour with."

"Awesome, and that makes five lessons we'll share!" She beamed at me as, in the background, Aphrodite began making retching noises, expressing displeasure rather than nausea.

My thoughts exactly. By the end of today, I would most likely become sick of the sight of this girl, and if I did end up in the Dark Daughters, then I'd probably lose my sanity from over-exposure to a girl who is, in essence, a medical impossibility, someone who shouldn't even exist.

_And yet, Mr No-Hoper, you are not?_

At least, I suppose, I will be spending my days in good company, among my own kind?

_Not that I would sink to her, or the fledglings', level._

* * *

><p>With Aphrodite leaving us to go to her own class, Zoey and I entered classroom 215 moments before the bell to be met with stares from every other student, all of them sat down already. I should have seen this coming – as the new kid, I'll be the subject of gossip and fascination for a long time, at least until some better gossip or another fledgling comes along. With me being seen with a student who is not only the most powerful fledgling in the House of Night, but also a member (probably leader) of the most elite club here, I'll soon become the talk of the town at this rate. Not only that, but there's my newly-red (so far unexplained) hair to add fuel to those flames.<p>

Zoey was now sitting beside Damien, and before I could take the empty seat behind her, Neferet strode in, causing the whole class to stop talking and sit straight-backed, leaving me stood solitary and the odd-one-out, obviously unprepared for the militaristic example of discipline at this school in the presence of vampyres.

_So, am I not the only one, then, who knows of the vampyre's inherent brutality?_

Still stood stupidly in the middle of the classroom, all eyes were on me, some surprised at my accidental impudence, none willing to giggle behind their textbooks. My eyes locking on Neferet, I found her staring at me, a slight smirk marring her outer beauty. Dressed in a black skin-hugging tank top embroidered with the professor's symbol on the left breast; a deep purple, black and white tartan full-length skirt cut with a slit up the side and black high-heeled boots, she was still the epitome of modern-day vampyre stereotypes, the fanged-beauty to a T.

"Oh, thank you Light." Neferet's tone had that mothering, sickly-sweet tone to it, her all-purpose cover in innocent company. Her smirk transformed into a sweet smile. "Does this mean you've volunteered already? Everyone," she addressed the room, her tone becoming authoritarian, "this is Light Asahi, our newest student. As you can see, he's just volunteered to hand out these booklets on our newest topic, Contemporary Vampyre Society. Now, when he's handed out those, Zoey can get him a textbook and explain the cabinet system to him. Right, Zoey?"

"Yes, Neferet." Her answer was innocent enough, but I could tell she was merely playing at obedience.

Walking to the front desk, she gave me the hand-outs, which I dutifully placed on every occupied desk. As I walked past every student, I studied every crescent-Marked face, and noted every look of apprehension, of amusement, of ennui. Placing the last booklet on my desk, right on top of a copy of _Vampyre Sociology 101_, Zoey ushered me to the end of the room where the cabinets stood, opening up the cabinet labelled with the number 15.

"Right," Zoey whispered as I took out a notebook from the cabinet, "the first lesson's classroom is always your homeroom, which is why your cabinet's here and not in your mentor's classroom. I know there isn't a lock on it, but that's because the vamps actually trust you not to steal anything."

"And why would they actually trust us not to steal?" I whispered back.

"Because if anyone stole anything, the vamps always find out. I mean, what's the use of a lock when they know that no fledgling in their right mind would do anything as stupid as stealing? Besides, the punishment for stealing would be mega-worse than in some public high school. It's so bad, that no one really knows what it actually is."

"I see." The response wasn't much to go on, but it was all I needed to convey the idea that vampyres really were awful, and no denying it.

Going back to my desk and with my notebook ready and a pen in hand, Neferet formally began the lesson, instructing us to open our booklets to the first page.

"As I've already mentioned," she began, "today's lesson is on Contemporary Vampyre Society, by which I mean between the beginnings of the nineteenth century, a century after the Burning Times, and present day. Since the resolution of the Burning Wars, vampyres – as you know – were more or less integrated into the rest of society, invited to live among humans on the condition that we only fed directly from humans when we had their direct consent, or not at all, by using anonymous donors at blood banks. In fact, all the blood drunk by vampyres at any House of Night will have been provided by blood banks.

"We were _graciously_ permitted to build and open House of Nights in and near human settlements such as this one, where a newly Marked fledgling could reach us much quicker and easier that if we were situated in more remote areas.

"When humans realised how much they could benefit from our talents in the Arts, as bestowed to us by our Goddess, we were soon admitted to find income in their media – to write novels that can be bought in their bookstores, to write and perform music that they can enjoy, and to act in their films and TV programs. While now they are beginning to regret what was their decision and theirs alone, we have found harmony with the humans, although it is of a tentative nature.

"While we are permitted to excel in the Arts and live freely this part of our daily lives, we are not always permitted to worship our Goddess Nyx with such freedom, while humans are – and for much of human history have always been – able to worship their god or gods. While we have not judged them for their decisions, for we are Nyx's children and the humans are not hers, they feel it is their liberty to judge us for ours. As you have no doubt heard or seen, this has culminated, as of late, in the slaughter in cold blood of our beloved professors by religious zealots. We have done nothing to them, and yet they feel the need to do something to us-"

"Excuse me, Neferet," I began, foolishly putting my hand up before my head could think, "but you cannot possibly believe that."

"Oh, what can I not possibly believe? Am I to believe that two honoured professors were not murdered on our grounds? That this wasn't most likely the fault of the People of Faith?" her voice was cold and cutting, an unexpected blow.

"On the contrary, what you cannot possibly believe is that the vampyres were completely faultless on their part."

"And would you care to elaborate on this theory of yours?" Neferet asked, stabbing me with a cold glare. "Why don't you stand up, so everyone can hear what you have to say?"

Understanding that she didn't mean this as a request, but a demand, I stood up, feeling the eyes of every fledgling on me once more as I dared to play devil's advocate, to prove their High Priestess wrong.

"You see, Neferet," I said, speaking louder for the benefit of the class, "my father was a police detective. Thanks to this, and international broadcasts, I know that vampyres have committed many atrocities against humans."

"I see," she replied coolly, "and how do you know that these 'atrocities' are not stories cooked up by the media, or stories force fed to you by humans themselves?"

"I know because I have seen the case files myself, and memorised every detail, down to the date, the place, and the number of human victims in each case." I didn't need to look away from Neferet to know that every fledgling was in shock, that their eyes were wide with disbelief, that the girls gasped not in pity for the humans killed, but for the blasphemy against their kind.

Feeling the High Priestess urge me on, I took a deep breath and carried on, "Since the end of the 1970s, the list goes as follows:

"1979, on the 28th of October, in Prague, a 12 year old girl was found two hours after she was killed. 1982, on the 5th of November, in London, a 1 month old child was orphaned before dawn. 1983, the 12th of December, Paris, a 17 year old was drained of her blood and thrown into the River Seine.

"1984, the 29th of February, Moscow, a single mother was eviscerated, and her 5 year old son along with her. 1985, the 12th of April, Berlin, 13 year old twin girls were found dead in their home, from exsanguination. 1986, the 2nd of May, Vancouver, Canada, a man in his mid-thirties was mutilated and drained of his blood.

"1987, the 31st of July, in Washington DC, a whole family of four was found dead on Pennsylvania Avenue, North-West. 1988, the 7th of September, Beijing, an 11 year old boy was found dead outside his school's gates. 1989, the 11th of November, Seoul, a 5 year old girl's parents were decapitated and drained of their blood and found dead in their home."

"Light," her voice was cold and irate now, "that's enough-"

"1990, the 25th of December, Kuala Lumpur, a teenage boy went missing, only to be found drained of his blood in the city centre park. 1991, the 13th of January, Sapporo, a 20 year old woman was disembowelled and drained. 1992, the 28th of February, Tokyo, a young family were found in their home, slaughtered, their throats ripped out save for their 3 year old son, who lived.

"_All_ of them were killed by vampyres, and _not one_ vampyres has been identified as of-"

"That's enough!" Neferet's voice reverberated around the room, magnified with power. "You will not spout such lies any longer! Not in this this House of Night, nor in any other, not on Nyx's ground!" One long-nailed finger pointed at me, and I felt my back straighten, and an invisible force grasp hold of me tightly. "I would throw you out of the House of Night and have you pray for the Goddess' mercy that you live to find a House of Night that will take you in, were this not your first day!"

Slowly, she lowered her arm back to her side, and her power over me lifted in one moment, sending me almost collapsing back into my seat. "But as this is your first day, and such a befitting punishment is not mine and mine alone to give in this situation, I cannot. Instead, you will come to my office tonight for detention at 4 o'clock, after the school ritual. You will come in for detention 18 nights in all – one for every one of your precious humans dead."

"Yes, Neferet," I whispered, almost hearing a demonic laugh sound in my head, one that could only belong to her, "I understand."

For the rest of that hour, I did nothing but sit and half-hear the half-truths she taught to her students, and half-hear the muttered comments of the fledglings about me. They couldn't believe what I'd said, the reaction I'd garnered, the extensive detention I'd earned, and all on my first day.

And, as the bell rang, for that moment, neither could I.

* * *

><p>Following Zoey to the Performing Arts Centre, I was thankfully on time for my next lesson, Drama. As the news of my detention had not yet reached the ears of the other professors, the greeting I received from Professor Erik Night, a black-haired vampyre with a Mark like a theatrical mask, was a fair one. Permitting me to sit wherever, I sat down at the empty seat beside Zoey. There were surprisingly few other boys in this class, I found, and so I found myself being stared at by the girls, when they weren't mooning over the Professor. Ignoring their fervent gazes, I instead took to listening to the raven-haired professor, who was giving a lecture on the perfect delivery of a monologue.<p>

As everyone got set onto practising their monologues _(Zoey reciting Juliet's 'Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?'),_ Professor Night came over to my desk and directed me to a red bookshelf full of books on monologues, where he told me just to find one that took my fancy.

Taking out a book, I flipped through until I stopped at a monologue from Hamlet. I was soon practising it, reading it out as the others did theirs, and putting the feeling into it on the second read-out.

Whether or not Professor Night heard my reading or not, he was soon clapping his hands for everyone to cease about fifteen minutes into the lesson. "Thank you, thank you," he said, projecting his voice, "I've been listening to you all, and while those were all very good tries, I think I need to give you an example of how to do it right. I'll ask that one of the better readers I heard, and one of the worst readers come up to the front, and read this dialogue between Romeo and Juliet. Zoey? Light? Would you two like to volunteer?"

Sighing, I put the monologue book back down on the desk, memorising the page before walking up to the front, standing beside Zoey. It might have been because I was new to fledgling classes, or because they could sense my antipathy, but I seemed to be drawing attention like light to the flies.

Professor Night handed us each a script, Romeo's lines highlighted on mine. Giving it a cautionary read, I found a small feeling of relief in me – it was just a tame scene, the famous one set at the Capulet mansion where the star-crossed lovers proclaimed love to each other. A simple thing to fake for the audience.

"Okay you two, let's just start from 'O Romeo, O Romeo', and carry on from there." He strode across to the back of the classroom, leaning against the wall as he counted us in. "And… action!"

"_O Romeo, Romeo!_" Zoey called, standing on her balcony, "_wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet._"

That was my cue: My voice whispering, not meant for her ears, I said, "_Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?_"

Thankfully, Zoey took the hint, and carried on as though she'd never heard me, "_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague._" She formed a quizzical expression on her face, an exaggerated look of perplexity, "_What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, where he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title._" Her tone changing to that of determination, she declared, "_Romeo, doff thy name, and for thy name which is no part of thee take all myself._"

I stepped forward into her line of sight, allowing my presence to be known to her, "_I take thee at thy word:_" I said, letting myself ooze Romeo's confidence, "_Call me but love, and I'll be newly baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo._"

She played the horrified virgin, shocked at a man who'd trespassed unannounced. "_What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night so stumblest on my counsel?_"

"_By a name,_" I told her, "_I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word._"

"_My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound,_" Zoey then looked at me with a questioning gaze, more curious than afraid, "_Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?_"

"_Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike._" I told her, giving her a voice of worship wrapped in charm.

"_H-how camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here!_"

"_With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me._"

She let peril fill her eyes, unaware of her exaggeration, "_If they do see thee, they will murder thee!_"

I sighed, and gave a warm smile, "_Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords; Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity._"

"_I would not for the world they saw thee here._"

"_I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; and but thou love me, let them find me here:_" I stepped closer to her, closing the gap, "_My life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of thy love._"

Her next words were a whisper, "_By whose direction found'st thou out this place?_"

"_By love_" I answered, "_who first did prompt me to inquire; he lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise._"

She took a decidedly deep breath, getting ready to begin her monologue, "_Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak to-night fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny what I have spoke: But farewell compliment!_" she looked away, looking back at me with a question. "_Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay', and I will take thy word: Yet if thou swear'st, thou_ _mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries then say, Jove laughs._

"_O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, so thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. _

She gave a staged sigh, "_In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour light:_" She stepped closer, speaking now with determination, "_But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, my true love's passion: Therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discovered._"

"_Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-_"

"_O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable._"

I gave a playful smirk at that, using flirtation, "_What shall I swear by?_"

Stubbornly, she replied, "_Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee._"

"_If my heart's dear love-_"

She cut across me once again, "_Well, do not swear: Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say 'It lightens'._" She stepped back, keeping the distance respectful and polite, "_Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast!_"

I made my gestures almost desperate as she made to walk away, projecting it in my voice, "_O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?_"

She turned back, seeming almost bothered by me, "_What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?_"

I stepped back to her, putting my arms around her waist gently but possessively, my face inches from her when I said, "_The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine._"

She had to look up at me now, her hands pressed against my chest, eyes unable to meet mine, "_I gave thee mine before thou did'st request it: And yet I would it were to give it again._"

"_Wouldst thou withdraw it?_" I asked, "_For what purpose, love?_"

"_But to be frank,_" her eyes returned to meet my gaze, "_and give it thee again. And yet I wish for the one thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite._"

Taking her hints, I slowly closed the gap between us and she reciprocated, moving my lips closer, closer-

She turned her head suddenly, as though hearing a twig snap somewhere. "_I hear some noise within,_" she whispered, moving out of my arms, "_dear love, adieu!_" she turned the other way, shouting "_Anon, good nurse!_" she turned back to me, "_Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again._" Zoey ran to the other end, as far away can she could from me.

I turned to my audience, "_O blessed, blessed night!_" I declared, "_I am afeared. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial._"

Zoey came back, returning to the original distance, "_Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, by one that I'll procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; and all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the world._"

Suddenly, Professor Night yelled for us, "_Madam!_"

"_I come, anon._" Zoey yelled back, returning her attention back to me, "_But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee-_"

"_Madam!_" Professor Night yelled again.

"_By and by I come,_" Zoey continued, "_To cease thy suit, and give me to my grief: To-morrow I will send."_

"_So thrive my soul-_"

"_A thousand times good night!_" she yelled, smiling like a girl in love. With that, she returned to her off-stage side, leaving me to my lonesome.

"_A thousand times the worse,_" I sighed, "_to want thy light. Love goes towards love, as schoolboys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks._"

"And scene!" Professor Night yelled, clapping his hands and striding to the front, motioning for us to bow to the rest of the class. "Not too bad, Romeo and Juliet – a nice attempt from Third Formers! Light, you're a natural! If this is what you can do without tuition, then with it, you could be better than me!"

The bell rang the end of class, and still gushing their approval of the performance, the rest of the students, a red-faced Zoey included, left the classroom, leaving the professor and I alone.

"You know, Light," he said, no longer projecting his voice, "if you want any extra tuition, I'll be happy to provide you with some. It's great to see a student with natural talent, rather than those who chose Drama because they couldn't do anything else." The look in his eye almost reflected that he was thinking of Zoey as he said it. "If you show more progress, I could enter you in for the House of Night's International Monologue Competition, if you wish."

_So, there's a competition that encourages you to practise the conman's art of fakery?_

"Yeah," I said, "I'd like that."

"Good. If your mentor agrees, I'll begin extra tuition in about a week, once you've settled in."

Nodding and picking up my bag, I turned to leave, "Thank you, Professor. I'll be going to my next class now."

"Alright," he answered, giving a knowing smile as I turned back to face him. "Just promise to stop acting and be your real self when you enter class tomorrow."

I froze in place, horrified at the comment, too taken aback to hide it.

_How… how did that vampyre know? Is he talking from his own experience, or is he actually psychic? No… he's only said that he knows, not that he knows who my real self is, but… but-_

Not daring to look at his face again, I fled out of the room before my fear could stop me, slamming the door behind me. I didn't stop until I reached classroom 214, until I was far away from Professor Night. Whatever he knew about me, whatever he claimed to know, he wasn't going to use it against me, not while I still had the ability to fight back against the species.

* * *

><p>Although I entered the class late, Professor Penthesilea – or Professor P, as she likes to be called – didn't mind at all. In fact, she gave me a smile, and a typical vampyre handshake as she asked me to empty the contents of my bag onto her desk. Seeing my perplexed look, she laughed, "Don't worry yourself, Light – I merely wish to make an example of you, nothing more."<p>

Confused, I put my rucksack on her empty desk, opened it, and began taking out one item at a time, placing them beside the bag in a neat pile. A notebook, a few pens, my copy of _Vampyre Sociology 101_, the monologue book… I stopped there, waiting for her reaction. When she raised her eyebrows at me, I realised that she knew there was more in the bag. Sighing, I reached in again, and pulled out the other books. Suzuki's _Ring_ (in Japanese), Camus' _The Outsider_, Orwell's _Nineteen-Eighty-Four_, King's _Carrie_-

Professor P, satisfied with the full unloading, stopped me there, picking up _Carrie_ off the top. "Here," she said, "I'm glad to see that someone here knows what we're doing! Congratulations for coming prepared, Light," she said to me, smiling wide. To the rest of the class, she continued, "The next book on our syllabus, now that we've finished _A Night to Remember_, is the vampyre author Stephen King's first work, _Carrie_. While Stephen King can himself teach us that we can only say we succeeded with our Goddess-given talents and gifts when we can sufficiently live off these alone and pay the electric bill with our earnings, Carrie, as you'll soon find out, warns us of the danger of underestimation, of messing with the wrong person and not treating everyone with the respect they fully deserve. While this may be tempting for some, it will be an insult to the one you abuse, and may end in your untimely death.

"Please note, while this novel is not for the faint-hearted or for those with weak stomachs, it is a work of fiction, of course, and so you must treat it as such." She turned back to me, "You can sit down now, and do take your possessions with you." Tipping everything back into my bag, and taking my copy of Carrie from her, I sat at a vacant desk beside Zoey. "For the rest of you who didn't come prepared," she continued, "you'll find copies on the third shelf, enough for one each."

Everyone got out of their seats in a pleasant manner, whispering something about pig's blood and the like. As Zoey got back to her seat, she leaned forward, her long hair practically falling across my desk. "How did you do that? You know, predict the next book on the syllabus like that? Bibliomancy?"

I gave a small chuckle. "What I did wasn't even Bibliomancy, and why would I even use such an unscientific method? No, it's a coincidence, really – I just put a few books in my bag this morning because I didn't reckon the lessons would be that interesting, and what do you know, Professor P and I have similar tastes in literature."

"You've gotta be crazy. The lessons here are interesting, awesome even, and don't you forget it!"

_Well, I don't know about awesome, but 'interesting' certainly covers it._

As the class settled down, and Professor P began reading the first chapter to us, I let myself relax, somewhat. While the coincidence may have taken some students aback, and probably made them even more suspicious of me, it was nothing to worry about – at least, not right now.

After the pleasant literature lesson came fencing with Professor Lankford, known more commonly as 'Dragon'. He came up to me as I entered the field house, smiling warmly. For a fencing instructor, he didn't look at all intimidating. He was shorter than me, with long blond hair tied up into a ponytail. He would be an ordinary-looking man, were it not for his Tattoos of two dragons breathing fire on the filled-in crescent moon, with their bodies wrapping down to their jawline.

Shaking my arm, he gave me a warmer greeting than the rest, "Merry meet," he'd said, "you must be Light Asahi, the new student I've heard so much about."

I gave him the shy act, as I had with all the others, "And you must be Professor Lankford, my mentor." He laughed at that, showing all the ferocity of a fat house cat.

"Yes." He continued, "But while I'm only your temporary mentor until we find someone who can better nurture your talents, I still expect you to do very well for me here. Are you at all familiar with this sport?" he asked, passing me the foil he was holding.

Taking the weapon, I held it comfortably in my hand, feeling the balance. "Yes," I answered, turning up the corners of my mouth, "I was instructed in the sport for a good while."

"Excellent! I like it when fledglings already have some ability – it makes their induction into their class so much easier. Now, if you could just get kitted up, you can pair up with Drew Partain for some practice lunges."

Depositing my blazer with the others, and putting on the fencing jacket, plastron, and glove, I soon found Drew talking to Damien, both already kitted up. "Come on, Captain Cotton-Brain," I said, tapping Drew on the shoulder. "We're paired up."

Scowling at the nickname, he gave a nod to Damien, before finding a space for us to warm up. "Go on, Asahi, lunge for me!"

At least one hundred lunges later, and I was starting to ache. No doubt sore from the yelling earlier, he'd pushed me a lot harder than the others had been willing to push each other, eager to take out his anger on me through pure sweat, having me bent over, hands on knees and gasping.

"Ah, Light! I'm glad to see someone's working hard!" I looked up to Dragon, seeing a look of pride (was it?) on his face.

"Yes," I answered, straightening up, "but the credit goes to Drew here."

He laughed and winked, "Of course it does." Clapping his hands for attention, he began addressing the rest of the class. "Now that we're officially warmed up, I'd like us all to try for a practice match. Light, Damien, would you two like to give a demonstration?"

Both of us nodded and stepped forward, each of us receiving a mask from him. Everyone gave us space, moving well out of the way of the reach of our foils. Standing opposite Damien, a mask covering our faces, I centred myself, got into the stance, and began turning the blade around in preparation, ready to start on the offensive.

_Finally, a chance to show this bloodsucker whose boss. _

Facing each other, foils touching, Dragon blew his whistle. _Begin!_

* * *

><p>Damien fell heavily to the floor, and I stood over him, my foil held firm, pointing into his face. His own weapon lay forgotten not two feet from his hand as he stared straight into my eyes, gasping for breath, his chest heaving from over-exertion. While I too was tired, I didn't show it, the point held barely inches from his face, as clear as my intention to keep him in his rightful place.<p>

My eyes locked on his, communicating easily the hatred and antipathy I felt for him. It wasn't, then, until Dragon tapped me on the shoulder that I backed off, lowering the foil and holding a hand out to help him up.

"Well done, you." he whispered, almost growling as he took my hand and got back to his feet again. Quickly withdrawing my hand, I took off my mask, showing my face, not even caring that the look of bloodlust was still there, that the desire to all-out destroy him lingered on the outside as well as on the in.

Taking his own mask off, Damien took a moment to inspect the mesh, horrified to see the tear that had been wrought at level with his left eye. Looking at me, and then at the mesh again, he put a hand up to his face, and pulled it away to stare at the red stain now on his fingers. He looked back at me, then.

Dragon came to stand at Damien's side, snatching the mask from him and lifting it up to let light pour in through the mesh. He turned it over in his hand. Seconds later, he gave me nothing but a side-ways glance before turning back to the rest of the class.

"Did you see the thrust Light executed at Damien's head?" He asked, holding it out for everyone to see. "Thanks to the power behind it, it not only landed, but tore through the mesh. Had Damien complained about having to wear his mask, as you all do, and not worn it during the bout, he would've been stabbed through the eye, and killed." Suddenly, he threw the mask to the ground, the thud echoing around the room, driving home his point.

"If any of you complain about wearing your safety gear again," he continued, "you will be forced to do without it for the rest of the term, and you'll spend every lesson of mine in the Infirmary, if you're lucky." Turning on his heel and walking towards the store room, he ordered, "Practise your lunges until the bell, and may Nyx help you all!"

* * *

><p>DAMIEN<p>

Back practising lunges with Zoey, I couldn't keep my mind off the bout earlier. When Light had said he'd been tutored before, he certainly wasn't lying. That, I was sure of: Dragon had always told me that you could learn the most about someone by the way they fought, and Light was no exception. He had the technique, and a style of fighting that was strong and purposeful, yet graceful as well. What was more, he was focused, and unnervingly so – while it was clear that he wanted me defeated, that he was practically obsessed with this goal, it didn't affect his fighting. Rather, it seemed to strengthen it, to draw in his focus and give him the drive to win.

From behind the mask, with no distraction, with triumph as his goal, he seemed to become someone else entirely. While he was still the same person on the outside, still the same handsome Japanese guy, it was like another side of him had been revealed. A side that wasn't shy, wasn't refined, wasn't quietly intelligent, and didn't keep himself restricted as he always seemed to.

No, this side was unwound and free, coldly calculating my every move and not afraid to show it. It was as though… he hated me, as though his entire being was functioning on that feeling alone. With it, his blade work was precise, he could find openings that even I didn't know existed, and he had the strength and force to even stab through mesh. Even in this House of Night's controlled and safe environment (as far as classes are concerned) he'd made me bleed, and in a lesson where no one else had bled before.

He was two-faced, dangerous, and that was the scary thing.

Why was he like that? Why did he seem to hate me so much? Or… was it just me? No, it couldn't be. He had no reason to hate me (or at least, no reason that I knew of. He wasn't homophobic, as far as I knew).

But… that moment at breakfast, when Light yelled at everyone for Drew's usual hazing speech. True enough, that speech was rancorous and bloody by itself, but most fledglings manage to laugh it off, even ignore. But Light… it seemed to hit him hard, and before any of us knew it, he'd snapped for a moment and unleashed all Hell on us. Of course, it must've been a glimpse of what I saw of him during the fight, a confirmation that he was hiding something, that there's more going on with him than what meets the eye.

No, I don't think I'm the only one he hates. No, for some reason, he hasn't been here 24 hours and already he has a reason to hate every one of us. Of all of us, he probably hates Zoey the least, but why I'll never know. That's something I may find out later, but right now, what really matters is that I find out what's up with him now, why it is he hates us all collectively and equally, and is so determined to hide it.

"_Shut up!_" he'd said to us all, "_Just shut up you_ cotton-_brained_, foul-_mouthed_, blood-sucking FOOLS!"

Blood-sucking? Whatever did he mean by that insult? We're all fledglings or vamps here, and blood is as much a part of our nature as it is for the humble vampyre bat.

How come? What does that mean for him, for us? And why-?

The bell rang, disturbing my train of thought for the moment. Yes, while there's certainly something going on with our newcomer, all I can do is observe him just a little more, perhaps play more bouts against him and wait for him to show that other side of himself once more – that violent, controlled, uncontrollable side.

Light Asahi… what was wrong with him?

* * *

><p><strong>And here is a very, very long chapter of NoHoper from me. Now, I don't really have much to say here, except that we're nearly halfway through this baby, and I've got some more awesomeness in store from here on out. While I think I was probably wasting time with the Romeo and Juliet scene, I do apologise that I couldn't properly write a good fencing scene. When I first thought to do it, I thought 'man, this is gonna be sweet', but when I got to it, I realised that, not only was I not very suited to action writing right now, but that I know nearly Jack-poopy about fencing. I did have one session of fencing when I was young enough to look too cute for that sort of thing, but that was it. <strong>

**For the biggie: I'm thinking of doing art for my fanfiction pieces, and if anyone else wants to do that too, then go ahead! **

**Until next time,**

**Thank you, and please R&R!**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	8. VII Vowed

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**Dear Cast duo, may I point out your violation of the most elementary rule of novel-writing: That is, your giving characters names that sound very similar, that begin with the same first two letters as one another, never mind the first. Think about it please: Damien, Darius. Erik, Erin. How many of your readers can say that they've gotten these characters mixed up when reading your novels on occasion? Quite a few, this one included. **

* * *

><p>Chapter VII<p>

Vowed

Feeling the eyes of the student populace on my back, sat alone save for Zoey, Shaunee, Erin, Aphrodite and her Son of Erebus Warrior boyfriend, I was indeed starting to feeling like an outcast. Within one morning, or evening as it was here, news had spread of my outburst at breakfast, of the argument I'd dared to hold with Neferet, and the bout between Damien and I that had gotten terribly out of hand.

Of course, that had to mean that they'd also heard of how I'd called everyone in the common room a bloodsucker, how I'd accused vampyres of murdering and slaughtering humans, how I'd fought Damien so intensely that I managed to draw blood where it should have been impossible to do so. Although I'd not even been here for one school day, I'd already made a name for myself, and it was as a creep, a freak.

Even a monster.

If it wasn't for Zoey's willingness to befriend me, and the Twin's insistence that whatever monster I may be could not amount to my ability to be desired, I would no doubt have been sitting alone, without Zoey and Shaunee on either side, or Erin, Aphrodite and Darius sitting across from me. Damien, rather than stay and play Mr Nice Guy, had gone to comfort Jack, who was still sore from my outburst earlier. He probably needed some time alone to himself, if just to clean the blood from the cut on his face.

_Pathetic fledglings, both of them. Can they not handle a simple creature such as I?_

Perhaps Zoey's willingness to stay has something to do with the fact that she too knows something is going on, knows that her High Priestess isn't what she seems?

Picking at the salad I'd chosen, I didn't feel as hungry as I thought I would be. Although I had barely eaten yesterday, had only managed half a bowl of cereal, if that, and had had such a workout during Fencing, I didn't feel up to the task of eating. Knowing that the fledglings everywhere were talking about me behind my back, spreading rumours of my abnormality, it didn't seem of much importance.

_Hypocrites, the lot of them._

"Light?" Zoey asked, bringing me back to the attention of immediate reality, "Are you okay? You're not eating anything."

"Yes," added Darius, "In fact, you have been hitting your tray with your fork for the last five minutes." I allowed a smile. The he talked, as though he'd been raised by Shakespeare himself was a strange comfort as it made him seem civilised, giving the idea that vampyres could have redeeming features after all.

_I would love to believe that vampyres aren't what they've already proven themselves to be, but that isn't my fault. Only theirs._

"No, it's nothing." I answered, "I just don't feel like eating, that's all. I don't really have a big appetite to begin with."

"A damn _fiiinnneee_ boy like you?" Shaunee asked, licking her lips.

"Nonsense!" Erin finished. "You should eat some more,"

"Or you won't be Mr Fine anymore!" Shaunee purred, finishing for Erin.

I gave a gentle laugh, "I'm glad you think so." As the easy flirting continued, I watched from my peripheral vision as two fledglings – girls – walked past our booth from behind my chair, glared at my back, and walked off again, their noses in the air. Aphrodite took her eyes away from Darius long enough to survey the scene. As the girls walked off, she gave a simple sniff.

"Wow," she said, as pleasantly as she could, "that looks familiar. Did I just get deja-vu?"

Zoey glared at the backs of the girls, before looking back at me. Discreetly, she whispered, "Aphrodite used to be super-popular, before she lost her crown and everyone started talking bullpoopie about her. You know, like they're doing now about you."

Oh joy. Somehow, I'd become unpopular, and after the attempted unseating of their favourite Priestess, I'm not surprised.

Darius slid out of the booth smoothly. Walking forward, he greeted professor Dragon, and I had to look away. After that bout with Damien, the way I'd ferociously attacked him, stabbed through the mesh of the mask just to try and stab him outright, I couldn't look the professor in the eye.

_If I let him look at me long enough, he may realise why I did it, what I was planning, and then he'd tell the whole school. If I'm lucky, they'll just eat me then._

"Ah, Light," Dragon said, giving an easy smile, "just who I was looking for." He was facing me directly now, and I couldn't help but avoid the eye contact. "Would you mind coming with me for a walk on the grounds? Oh are you busy not eating to talk to your own mentor?"

"Oh, he's not," Shaunee offered, giving me a wink. "Take him for as long as you like."

"Just bring him back in one piece!" Erin finished. Zoey slid out and, pulling me up to my feet, gave me a nudge, and mouthed for me to go. Nodding my consent, I walked away with Dragon, standing barely inches behind him.

We soon found ourselves outside, walking along the path, I was still walking behind him, unwilling to even be near someone who could shred me in two with ease. When very few fledglings were in the vicinity, he stopped and turned, facing me.

To my surprise, he was still smiling, not even a trace of anger on his face. "Now," he said, "would you care to explain?"

"Explain what?" I asked, playing the innocence card.

"The bout between you and Damien. The argument between you and Neferet, along with the little matter about you yelling at Drew and the others over breakfast." I couldn't help but feel shock at his comment, unable to believe that he knew.

Does every vampyre here know how to read me like this? Is my privacy not respected here?

He gave a laugh, a good-natured one at that. "News travels fast here. Now, would you like to explain why you nearly killed Damien today in your first Fencing class, and how you managed to destroy a high-quality piece of protective equipment?"

"Not really." I muttered. "I don't think I can."

"Are you angry at someone?"

"No."

"Are you holding a grudge against someone?"

"No."

"I know you're probably angry about being Marked. Most new fledglings are: It usually takes them a while to adjust to the idea of not being able to see their friends again, and perhaps not even their parents, but-"

"It's not that," I urged, insistent.

"Are you sure? Because no fledgling I've ever mentored has tried to kill a classmate over nothing. Not on purpose, in any case."

"I'm sure." I managed to drag my eyes up from the ground to look at his, determined to show sincerity to a vampyre who could no doubt detect honesty and more.

He sighed. "Fine. As this is your first day, I'm willing to let this incident go. It is always hard for fledglings to adjust, so I'll chalk it up to that. However, I'd much rather that you tell me, as your mentor, what is going on if you can't tell anyone else. I'd much rather you take out your anger on me than on one of your classmates – at least I can take it.

"Remember that well, Light. You can always tell me about your problems, if you can't tell anyone else. I'll always be available to talk to, because that's what I'm here for. In return, I ask that you don't take whatever it is out on the others. Promise?"

Taking hold of each other's forearms, we shook on it. "I promise." I said, smiling for sincerity.

"So?" he asked again, "Is there anything you want to say before I go?"

As uncertain as I was, as to whether I could really trust this vampyre right now, a thought, a whisper of the conscience I never had responded. _Yes_, it whispered, _yes there is_. _Go ahead_. I tried to turn away from Dragon, tried to step away, but my feet wouldn't move for me, and an invisible fist punched me from within, forcing me it stop.

Finally, I had to admit it. "Yes, there is." I said, my head bent down. Knowing that the professor wouldn't let me leave without an explanation, I spotted a bench, gestured for us to sit there, and, once sat down, I began.

* * *

><p>When I'd finished explaining, Dragon took a deep inhale, and then a deep exhale. His face unreadable, he looked away, seeming to be in the process of ordering his own thoughts.<p>

Finally, he gave his response. "I see." He said, giving a slight nod. "Is this why…?"

I nodded, not daring myself to speak in case the truth caught me off guard, and made me cry.

"I understand." He said, "It seems-"

"No," I cut across him, "you can't understand. But you can help."

"Help? What do you mean by that?" His tone was quizzical, and rightly so: He had no way of knowing what I was planning, what I meant by 'help'. And yet, up until now, I didn't either.

"I need to find him, to make him pay, and I know I can't do that on my own. I know the best vampyre to talk to would be Neferet, but I don't think she would help. She wouldn't understand, and I doubt she'd be willing to take part in such a mission." I gave a sigh, an indication of the feeling of futility, "No, you are the best hope I have in this matter."

Dragon didn't speak for a moment, still thinking. Finally, "While I know that these are unacceptable actions, for humans or vampyres," he began, "I'm not sure I want to invoke the wrath of such a dangerous being. Then again, do I even have a choice?"

"No," I answered, "you don't. If you say 'no', I'll view you as an accessory. I'll never trust you again, and you'll be forced to step down as my mentor, whether you like it or not."

He gave me a strange look for that, an ambivalent look that showed both insult and surprise. I knew as well as he did that no student had the right to talk to their teacher like that, regardless of species, and yet there was no way to avoid it – he didn't doubt that I could stop him from being my mentor as easily as Neferet could, and he'd have to accept that and my threats if he wanted that bond to remain.

He was caught out, stuck between a rock and a hard place, and we both knew it.

With a long sigh, he held out his hand to shake forearms with me again, and he gave a curt nod, "Fine," he said, his tone exasperated, "I will help you, but I need to remain informed in the matter, I'll need details, and we will not trespass against the High Council. If they have any reason to call us out and stop us from succeeding, they will, and you will have to accept that. If they tell us to call it off at all, I won't help you any longer. Deal?"

Reciprocating, I nodded. "I understand." I said, "But if we are free to continue to the end, then we have no choice but to. I won't allow it to go any other way."

His expression was solemn, and rightfully so: If the High Council of Vampyres could find no fault with us, had no reason to stop us, then the end of this mission would be marked with death.

That was the only option.

* * *

><p><strong>The plot thickens! I know this one is much shorter than the last, but this one was always going to be short. Don't worry, there are a few more long ones set up to about in this fic, no doubt about it. If you've got anything to say about this one, you know what to do, and that's all I've got to say about it, really.<strong>

**Until next time,**

**Thank you, and please R&R!**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	9. VIII Dead

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**How is it that such a mother-daughter writing team can write something in such a wrong way, and yet make it so right? I don't know how, but once I find out, I can properly say that I don't need it.**

* * *

><p>Chapter VIII<p>

Dead

After lunch, of course, was French class, the only one where I wouldn't be sitting with anyone I already knew. If I needed someone to work with at all, it would require making friends myself, and with the way things had been going for me so far, that looked incredibly doubtful.

If I needed to pair up with anyone in this class, then it would have to be by force.

Professor Morello, our French professor, was a blond-haired blue-eyed native Frenchman from Paris, having grown up in Paris Ouest until his teens, when he made the Change and began travelling the world to 'bed' at least one person in every country – even in every city – and con at least one mega-organisation or corporation in every continent along the way. When he'd realised that Nyx had gifted him with an affinity for languages – or at least the ability to charm anyone with his mastery of a mere ten – he stopped his mission of conquering the four corners of the globe, and settled down in America, to teach fledglings how to do the same, starting with French. Believing that language is more of an art than a science, he encouraged what he called 'flowing' in language-learning.

While I have to admit he's certainly ambitious, and he's easy to respect, I can only go so far without finding fault with his methods.

_It's the same with all vampyres – if it isn't blood and murder, then it's certainly sex._

Having already had some background knowledge of French, the lesson seemed to go quite well. While the use of text books was prevalent, Professor Morello's method of teaching us all the important grammar before having us converse with each other without much guidance was well-played – in this manner, we'd be building our fluency and understanding than with the usual method of force-feeding. In short, he was getting our language to 'flow'.

By the end of the lesson, I was feeling better about the rest of the day, despite the unpopularity I'd already gained. By Professor Morello's policy of having us sit in different seats every lesson and working with the student to our immediate right, he'd ensured that pairing up and even making friends wouldn't be a problem here.

Equestrian class, which followed on straight afterwards, I found myself in not as clean a position as I would've liked: As it was my first day working with the horses, Professor Lenobia (who'd insisted that I just call her 'Lenobia') had me mucking out the stall of one of her horses, so as to ensure I knew the difference between a horse and a dog.

"You have fifty minutes to clean the stall." She'd told me as I put on a pair of mucking boots that she'd handed to me, "and I'll be here in forty-five minutes to inspect." Walking into the stall, and armed with gloves, a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow, I got to work.

Now, while I am no stranger to cleaning, I couldn't help myself from grimacing at the job, the Gaelic folk music playing through loudspeakers of very little comfort to me.

Nevertheless, that almost innate need to be in a clean environment spurred me on, and I was soon smoothing sawdust out on the floor of the stall. Barely minutes later, Lenobia came back, a large dark bay Arabian stallion in tow. Letting me pass to wheel the barrow out of the stall, she gave a slight nod. "Well done," she said. "Have you done this before?"

Taking the gloves off, I answered. "No, I haven't. I've never been inside a stable before, let alone mucked out a stall." Not to mention the fact that, in all honesty, I've never before expressed a wish to be near a beast that could easily kill me if it so desired.

She kept her grey eyes on me, practically studying me. "Well," she said, "This here is Ares, and you've just mucked out his stall. You won't have had much experience with horses, I expect, so you can spend the rest of the lesson getting to know him." Lenobia led the stallion into his stall, and I watched as the beast gave a large exhale, turning his head to glare at me with one brown eye.

"While the other are practising their canters, I think you should take this time to groom him, and get to know him – you'll be riding him tomorrow." She passed me a curry brush, and before I could object, she was already walking back into the main field house, and waving away my protests. "You should feel privileged," she called, "no fledgling has mounted him before."

Lenobia back with the fledglings, I looked back to the muscle-bound beast in the stall, his whole body turned to face me. His huge head bent down to stare eye-to-eye with me, and he exhaled air, puffing in my face. Feeling his warning of pain emanate from him, I took a step back, moving as far away from the monster as I dared.

What is this behaviour? Me, afraid of a pony? I should be ashamed of myself!

Sticking the curry comb in the pocket of my blazer, and slowly pulling my sleeves up to the elbow, I stepped slowly, daringly towards the stall again, gently opening the door to that stall. The whole time, Ares did nothing, willing to watch me, and stare daggers into my face.

The stall door fully open, I crossed the boundary, my hands up in front in submission. All I needed to do was give the beast a quick comb over, nothing more. As long as I knew that, he would get the idea too, and then he would know that I wouldn't even dream of threatening this big brute of a stallion-

A creak. He startled. Before I knew it, he was casting a shadow from above, standing high on his hind legs, rearing, letting loose a loud whinny as his front legs galloped on air, nothing supporting his massive bulk.

Suddenly, his hoofs were coming down in range of my head, ready to stamp down with his might. A hand touched my shoulder, pulling me back swiftly.

When all became clear once more, I was sat on a haystack opposite the stall, the mighty Arabian tethered by his rein. He wouldn't be coming loose for a long time, if Lenobia had any sense at all.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her white-blond hair hanging over her face as she bent over me. "You should be very gentle with Ares – he tends to feel threatened very easily. And he won't hesitate to fight back if it's in his best interests."

"But… but…" I tried to answer, but I was still shaken up from the ordeal.

_Being gentle wasn't the problem._

"I suppose you'll be better off watching the others until the bell goes." She answered, "You won't get much of a response from Ares until tomorrow." Sighing, I got up from the haystack, threw down the curry comb, picked up my shoes from where they sat, and made towards the corral, almost certain that I would be ending my life at the hoofs of a demonic equine.

A scream suddenly sounded, almost from nowhere, accompanied with-

_Blood. The smell of blood._

I whipped around to face Lenobia, but she'd already passed me into the corral, armed with a towel at the ready. Following her through the doorway, the sight that hit me was just…

A fledgling had fallen off her horse, the black mare now trotting away to the far end, as far away as she could manage with the other horses. By the time I had joined the crowd of fledglings, she was already surrounded by a large patch of red sawdust, her own blood. Tears of red were already tracing their way down her face, and her limbs were already shaking in protest, unable to handle the fast process of fledgling exsanguination.

All around, the other fledglings were helpless, crying and scared, themselves terrified of the sight of their own kind dying. _The blood of your own, after all, is so much more different than the blood of prey._

As for me, I walked back into the stable again, found another towel, and was soon back by her side, handing the towel over to Lenobia, who was already clamping her own towel to the girl's mouth. Watching the girl's frightened eyes dart from her professor to me, it was only then that I recognised her: She was from the dining hall, one of the girls who'd shot daggers at me during lunch because he believed me to be heartless and cruel.

Barely seconds later a fledgling entered the corral, leading Neferet and three other vampyres in behind her. A vampyre I didn't recognise, a woman, certainly didn't gape like most of the other fledglings: Gesturing for some room, she came to the dying girl's side, muttering what seemed to be a prayer under her breath, watching steadily as the fledgling emitted a smile and grew peaceful, relaxing enough to allow the other two vampyres to load her onto a stretcher. Along with Neferet who walked beside her, she was carried away. We never saw from her again.

The lady vampyre stood up at that, her long maroon dress of velvet stained with fresh blood. Addressing us, she spoke, her voice richly accented – British, but not, Italian, but not so. "Dear fledglings," she said, her dark skin shining mahogany in the gas lamps, "while a fledgling has rejected the Change, I ask that you not bereave for her death. She is with the Goddess now, and staying in her fields. Her life here may have ended, but she is in a better place.

"While this is true, please remember that this could happen to any of you. It may be in three years' time, or during the next few months, but it is inevitable. It is a fact of your lives as fledglings that you will have to accept. Only nine in ten of you here today will make the Change, while the rest will be called to Nyx's side much earlier.

"Indeed. Do show appreciation for her short life here, but do not tarry: You cannot change what has already been written by the Goddess, and nor can you by dwelling on this."

With nothing more to say, she left.

Looking around at the fledglings, I saw that they were looking at each other too, some with grief, and some with guilt. Not one of them didn't seem affected by the sudden death of their classmate, not even Zoey, who probably understood the ways of their Nyx better than the rest of us.

As I looked at the stain of red on the sawdust floor, the print of the fledgling's body marked yellow in the centre, I couldn't help but feel the prickle of eyes on my back. Looking around, I found that the whole class, even Lenobia, was looking at me, assessing my lack of tears or symptoms of the usual post-death shock.

A girl I didn't know, her name whom I later found out to be Rebecca, came to my side, a hand on my arm. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice nothing but a whisper, in respect for the dead, "This must be really hard for you – you've only been here a day, and already someone's died."

"No," I answered, my voice as steady and calm as it always had been, "I'm fine, really."

"You don't need to put up a front," said Drew, his eyes red, and threatening to spill over with tears, "everyone has to see this. You just had to see it on your first day."

"Honestly," I said, barely giving them time to cut in, "I'm fine. This doesn't bother me, I'll manage." With that, I made to turn away, to find a shovel or a rake to clean away the bloody sawdust from the ground.

They wouldn't let me. Rebecca grabbed hold of my arm tight, not letting me go. "What do you mean, this doesn't bother you?" her voice was harsher now, bordering hysterical, "Are you _happy_ that Diana's dead? Is it because she didn't_ like_ you?"

"No, it's-" I began, but then I caught myself. "Her name was Diana? I didn't know that."

Rebecca puffed in deeply, angry. "Don't you care?" she yelled.

"Yeah," said another girl. Amanda, her name was, "what's wrong with you? What are you, some sorta psychopath?" \the fledglings, ignoring the stain, began crowding around me, grief turning them savage as they yelled rallying calls against me, Lenobia nowhere to be seen. I was sure they would've killed me for my insolence here and now, had Zoey not stepped between them.

"Please!" she said, her hands spread out, "This is Light's first day. Can't you just give him a chance? You don't know how he deals with this sorta thing – don't be so quick to judge! This is only the first one he's seen!"

"Yeah," said Amanda, "whatever. Are you gonna defend that psycho? He's probably so used to seeing blood that he dyed his hair the same colour just to have it around all the time! He should be locked up, the creep!"

"But, but," Zoey didn't know how to follow that up, by the sound of her voice. She would've struggled for a while with stringing a sentence together, had I not said anything.

"No, Zoey, she's right." I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Zoey turned to look at me, as did the others, too surprised at my admittance.

"What?" Zoey's voice was quiet, disbelieving.

"It's true; I've seen this too often to be shocked by it anymore. It really doesn't bother me. Yes, I probably am a psychopath, yes, I probably should be locked up, but honestly, I don't care. You can say what you like about me; it won't change what just happened."

"And what's that?" Amanda asked, "Another day at the office for Light Asahi, the Japanese serial killer?"

I found it hard not to smile at the irony of those words, and yet I persevered, continuing my statement. "No, what I meant was that, five minutes ago, someone rejected the Change. It could happen to you, to me, even to Zoey, so you should deal with it. Move on with your life. You can't change it any more than Diana or even Nyx can. It's a natural process, so why treat it any differently than the others?"

"Oh," asked Drew, "so Diana's an 'it' now?"

"No, but she's not anything else. Diana's gone now, and her body's empty. You can't change that, so accept it." Taking the mucking boots off, I left them where they dropped and, with my shoes, I walked away, shaking off their attempts to restrain me.

Ignoring the sticky feeling of congealing blood on my socks as I walked through the stain, I turned to see them again, not stopping. "I already have." Leaving the scene of a girl's death, that was the last thing I said on the matter.

As I made my way out of the field house and back to the boys' dorm via the path, tracking red prints into the paving and unable to feel the cold of the ground against my soles, I searched my mind, looking for signs of sadness, regret, anything that said I was at all sorry for Diana's passing. Without even a flinch of disgust or shock, I found the answer, pure and simple.

There was nothing. Nothing at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Another short one, I'm afraid, but this is another chapter that I liked writing. It's a bit of a continuation of 'Enraged', in my opinion, and it's just quite cool. I really don't have a lot to say at all, so just take this as it is, since I've given you three chapter in two days.<strong>

**Until next time,**

**Thank you and please R&R,**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	10. IX Dispirited

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**House of Night: The one thing to read when you need your brain to melt and turn to gloop a little. **

Chapter IX

Dispirited

When I'd finally allowed myself to emerge from my room, it was 3AM, and the last lesson had formally ended. With clean socks and my shoes on my feet, Jack attempted once more to drag me out of the room, stopping only when I pulled his arm away, asking him where we had to go this time.

"We're going to the whole school Ritual to Nyx, and we're gonna miss it if you don't run!" His face was flushed with worry, and he was practically jumping about, unable to stay still or slow down.

"A ritual?

"Yeah! Damien mentioned that last night, you know! We've totally got to go to this Ritual now, and if we're not at Nyx's Temple in time, then they won't let us in!"

_And what a shame _that_ would be._

"Do I have any choice in the matter?"

"No way, you have to go! The later you get acquainted with Nyx, the more you'll regret not knowing Her sooner!" His eyes seemed to plead along with his voice, and I had no choice but to let myself get dragged away with him once again.

Once he'd pulled me out of the dormitory and along the path to the temple that stood by the school, I'd broken from his grasp and freely ran alongside him, more accepting of the situation than I was five minutes before.

_Know thine enemy, as they say. And perhaps, with any luck, the secrets of their bloody infamy can be found within._

About halfway to the Temple, we found ourselves in the company of other, less hurried fledglings, a few of whom I barely recognised and all of whom knew Jack's worry to be unfounded: The ritual was not to start for another five minutes, and no one here was to be late.

It was only then that I remembered the cross still hanging around my neck underneath my shirt. Only then did I realise the amount of trouble I could find myself in, were I to be found with one in my possession. Glancing around to make sure no one had their eyes on me; I unclasped it deftly from around my neck, and slipped it into my blazer pocket, waiting for the opportune moment to get rid of it before entering the Temple.

Before I could, however, I found myself at the entrance of the Temple of Nyx. A building constructed from stone, there were stone steps leading up to the large arched entrance, a tall marble statue of a woman with her hands upraised standing before the Temple. Two Sons of Erebus Warriors stood sentry on either side of the entrance, one of which I recognised as Darius. Shaunee, Erin, Zoey and Damien were already at the entrance, no doubt waiting for Jack and I to arrive. Turning to me, the blond whelp of a fledgling gave me an encouraging smile. "C'mon, you're gonna love it."

"Save me a place," I found myself saying, "I'll be with you in a minute. I just have something to do first." Within that first nano-second I'd spent gazing at the marble figure, I'd already formulated a plan for getting rid of the cross. Jack's smile weakening, perhaps with slight disappointment, he nodded, and ran off to join Damien, the rest of the group entering the Temple without me.

As the last few fledglings entered, leaving me remaining for the moment, I gave another cautionary glance before walking up to the statue. Only then did I notice the green candle sitting at the foot of the statue, the pillar overturned and unlit. Doing nothing more than to stand it back up again, I returned my attention to higher up the statue, to the hands. Though large and carved from marble, they seemed narrow and feminine, like the hands of a woman.

_Like those of my mother._

Ignoring the thought, I took the silver chain and began to wrap it around the left hand, making the cross pendant hang down to shimmer in the breeze, mimicking the gesture of a Catholic nun grasping her rosaries. Once I was sure that the pendant would not slip from the statue's grasp, I gave a smile at the blasphemy, and made my way into the Temple.

Entering the dark foyer of the Temple of Nyx, I found that only Zoe, Shaunee and Erin remained, and I soon realised why – Jack must still hate me for my behaviour before, and although he must've not wanted to speak to me, his dedication to Nyx and to leading me to Her had to come first. This left me in the company of the girls minus Aphrodite (she'd arrived five minutes before, as it turned out, given the amount of repenting she had to put in first), all of whom had stayed to brief me on the ritual to come.

Leaning by the water fountain in the foyer, they began the quick-stop tuition. "First of all," said Zoey, "When you go in, Anastasia Lankford will be there to trace a pentagram on your forehead with oil. Before she does, you'll give her the vamp salute, she'll say 'blessed be', and then you just say 'blessed be' back."

"Next," said Shaunee, "you go into the next room, where you'll-"

"Stand in a circle with everyone else." Continued Erin. "Then, the High Priestess – that's Neferet – will summon the four elements-"

"And while she does, we turn clockwise to embrace the four directions." Finished Shaunee. "She'll light a candle for each one, and after facing North for the fourth element Earth-"

"She'll go to the centre, light the fifth candle for the fifth element Spirit, and ta-da, there's your circle casting."

Zoey nodded her head in approval. "After a brief sermon and such, she'll close the circle again, going in reverse order, and that's it!"

"Really?" I asked. "That's it? No blood, no sacrifices, nothing?"

"Wow, Damien was right about you," snorted Shaunee.

"You do take this blood-drinking thing too seriously!" finished Erin with an identical tone.

"You should loosen up!" The pair returned.

"Yeah, they're right." Zoey said. "If you're gonna join the Dark Daughters, then you'll have to get used to this, pronto. At the Dark Daughters meeting, we – that's Damien, Shaunee, Erin, Aphrodite and I – cast the circles. Since I have an affinity for all the elements including Spirit, I stand at the centre, and the others represent the elements they have an affinity for."

"So… four of you own one element each, and you can control all five?" I asked.

"Well, yes and no – Aphrodite just stands in for Earth, she doesn't have that affinity, not really. My best friend and roommate, Stevie Rae Johnson, had the Earth affinity in our circle, but she died a while ago, and we've not had much of a Dark Daughters meeting since." Her eyes took on a sad quality, but not quite to the level of grief – more like she missed this Stevie Rae girl because she'd moved away, or because she'd been on vacation in Europe for a long time, nothing more.

The atmosphere became awkward around us as Shaunee and Erin took on the same expression, so I spoke up, breaking the tension. "Shall we go in for the ritual?"

Zoey shook herself slightly, and smiled. "Yeah, let's go. We don't wanna be late."

The Twins walking ahead, Zoey followed behind me, leading me down a gently left leading path. Reaching a doorway guarding a room of smoke, I found a golden-blonde-haired vampyre stood by it, clad in a black dress that held the silver goddess emblem on the left breast, as with all professors' clothes. Watching as the Twins each in turn gave her a cross-heart salute, the vampyre Anastasia smiled and responded with a whispered "Blessed Be" before tracing the pentagram on their foreheads with clear oil from a rock bowl.

As they passed through the doorway, I hesitated slightly, stepped forward and gave her the cross-heart salute. "Merry meet, Light Asahi," Anastasia whispered, a greeting just for me. She dipped a finger into the oil. "Welcome to the House of Night… and your new life." Parting my fringe to give her access to my forehead, where that Mark had been hidden. "And blessed be." She finished, still smiling kindly.

"Blessed be." I whispered back, barely loud enough for even me to hear. A tiny jolt of a sensation suddenly fired through my synapses, started by the completion of the pentagram on my forehead. Snapping out of the tiny shock, I hurried into the room before Anastasia could say anything more to me.

Incense hanging in the air, I looked around, surveying the scene. Candles were held in iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and candle trees lined the wall, all of them holding more lit candles. Sconces hung from the walls, burning with fire rather than the gas used in the school sconces.

In the centre of the room stood an antique table laden with a food and wine just like the table set up in the dining hall. Along with the offering, a smaller marble statue of a woman – who must surely be Nyx – stood on it, this one with her hands upraised mimicking the professorial emblem. Beside it stood a loaded candelabrum and several lit sticks of incense, emitting the heady scented smoke.

The vampyres and fledglings were joined in a large circle around the room, just as the Twins had said, the offering table stood at its centre. Finding a gap between Zoey and Aphrodite, I made towards, squeezing myself in to stand between them. Offering each of them a quick smile in greeting, I surveyed the room again, looking for clues as to what to do next.

Know Thine Enemy. Act the part and you won't be spotted. Play the role of the good fledgling and you will be redeemed.

Standing at the 5 o'clock position from my 12, I easily spotted Amanda and Rebecca from Equestrian class, both of them red-eyed with grief, but handling it somewhat in a controlled manner. They'd been whispering to each other, and when they looked up again, they saw me looking back at them. Before they could transfer any hate with hard glares, I gave them both a look of remorse, a token of regret for my actions not too long before. Not sure as to how they would react, I stopped looking at them and turned to Aphrodite instead. Her eyes were closed, almost in prayer.

Suddenly, every noise in the room died away, and four figures dressed in black emerged from each corner of the room. They walked slowly into the circle of fledglings and vampyres, stopping at the edge, representing the points of a compass. From the entrance, two others walked in, both of whom I'd seen before: The first, with her flame-coloured hair and an elegant black dress embroidered with clear beads was Neferet, her moss-green eyes shining with confidence in the candlelight, replacing their previous look of danger. From her throat, a pendant of onyx wings trimmed and bound with gold hung, beautiful, yet emanating a danger of its own. The second was the same woman I'd first seen earlier today, the same woman whose name I'd heard earlier today but never in the same hour. Only now, seeing her dark skin gleam like the skin of a bright lamp, and her long black hair reach past the waist of her floor-length Victorian dress, did I make the crucial connection.

"_Shekinah, the High Priestess of all vampyres." Surely I should have wondered before, but… what is this dictator doing here in the open? If Neferet is as bad, as evil as we think, wouldn't she want to do danger to the big wig? How trusting are these creatures?_

Entering the circle, Neferet began a gentle sway, soon moving seamlessly into a calm dance around the circle as Shekinah stood by the centre table, reciting old words, poetry. As beautiful as I'm sure that poem was, I never paid attention to it, and nor can I remember it – all of my attention was focused on the High Priestess Neferet rather than the All High Priestess Shekinah, the beads shimmering like stars in the void on Neferet's dress, her dance subtly sensual in nature. Yet, what I remembered most was the aura that seemed to emanate from her, of deep darkness and power. How I knew what it was I couldn't say, and why I, a man more of science than mysticism, could accept this revelation equally had no answer, but I did.

The fact that this vampyre could be the epitome of evil, that the Leader Fledgling Zoey Redbird can confirm this is proof enough for now.

In the time of an age, and yet the space of mere minutes, the poem had ended, and Neferet had made her way to the centre, where she stood at the centre table by Shekinah. Taking up a goblet from the table, she lifted it in a toast to the circle. "Welcome, Nyx's children, to the last school Ritual of this year!"

"Merry meet!" Chanted the other five vampyres.

Placing the goblet back onto the table, she picked up a white taper from a candlestick holder, the end already lit and ready for her use. Holding it gracefully in her fingers, almost like a wand, she walked across to one side, to the easterly point. Almost immediately, every entity making up the circle turned to the east, I along with them after a slight hesitation. The voice I heard next was Neferet's and yet not hers, echoing against the very walls of the Temple.

"_From the east I summon Air. I ask that with it you carry the gift of knowledge that our weakness has been swept away with the winter breeze."_ From the first breath of her words, the still air moved for her, rustling through the room, alive and wild, yet ineffective towards the lit candles. It soon picked up speed, and I was engulfed in a typhoon of wind, my clothes and hair batted about with its force. As though responding to whatever fears and doubts I'd once held, it seemed to pull me to the ground, keeping me rooted, standing firm.

We all turned to the right again as we heard the High Priestess' footsteps against the floor. Now facing south, her voice rang out again. _"From the south I summon Fire. I ask that you burn away our fear, and replace in us the gift of strength, to bind us together and illuminate the darkness."_ The wind died down, but only barely as something else took over, an inescapable heat that started from within, from my heart like a core, radiating outwards, reaching to my fingertips. The heat took hold under my skin, the intensity growing until the heat was unbearable, and only the fire existed. How no one thought to look at me, to notice the way my hair was whipped about, the way my skin seemed to glow from the heated core, I couldn't understand; only surmise that this was either the norm for other fledglings, or a warning from the Goddess to leave before I tarnished the circle any longer, before she threatened to rip me in two.

Turn again. _"From the west I summon Water. I ask that you cleanse our wounds, and bestow upon us the gift of wisdom, to understand our enemies as well as our kin."_ Waves crashed against a cliff inside my ears, a powerful, all-destroying tidal wave as it was heated by the fire, quenching the heat but refusing to abate. The wind blew it harder against my cliff, the heat and the water battering it mercilessly. I grit my teeth against the intensity – all this at once, this hurricane, this magma, this tsunami, I could barely handle it. It would drive me mad if they battled for much longer.

As though magnetised by the elements, I turned once more with the rest, facing north and into the circle once more. Only now could I see what had been going on: With the summoning of every element, each vampyre at every point so far had had a candle lit by Neferet, only to place it at their feet. _"From the north I summon Earth. I ask that you plant within us the seeds of might, and grow within us the gift of manifestation, to build upon what is broken and bring into fruition what once was hopeless."_ With that summoning, I felt roots wrap tight around my ankles, rooting me almost literally to the ground as the forces took their toll within. As Neferet lit the green candle held by the north vampyre, I felt the roots pump into me the strength of the Earth, and I felt solid inside, weighted, as though nothing could break me, a sensation of omnipotence.

The intensity reached a peak, and I could feel every element crash through me again and again, waves of unlimited forces that only I could bend. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't, merely supressed it and smiled instead, unable to resist the good feeling they lent. _No one can break me without my permission; nothing can damage me without my authority. _Before I could stop myself, I felt manacled by the powers. I was under Nyx's control, surely, truly…

And yet I couldn't have been happier within the chaos.

All faced into the circle for the final element, and Neferet moved back to the centre table, where Shekinah was holding up a purple candle. I waited with anticipation, unsure of how this Spirit would manifest itself, only that it would. _"And last, from our centre, I summon Spirit. I ask that you complete this rite with the gift of connection, that we as your children may prosper together, and triumph together."_ Neferet lit the candle, and Shekinah lifted it, setting it back down on the table. After that… after that…

Everything started to crumble, and crash down within me. I still felt the tumult of the empowering elements, crackling and whirling as strongly as ever, and yet, much deeper within… an empty space. A black hole where Spirit could've sat. Its darkness threatened to pull away the rest of the elements, suck me dry of any of the power, or any sensation from the inside out. Only by focusing on the elements that already existed, by emptying my mind and filling it with the yellow, red, blue and green lights dancing in my head could I hang onto the good feeling, that sensation of omnipotence.

Seeing without hearing, feeling and yet not, I couldn't concentrate on Neferet's words, her mouth merely moving, only on the urging for Spirit to follow suit, the empty hole threatening to consume me whole. Threatened with hyper-awareness, I felt Zoey's shoulder brush against my arm as a sigh of peace escaped her mouth, a peace I wasn't to know. My mind seemed to buckle under the growing weight of it, intruded by the thoughts.

_How cold inside, so dark._

_Why is this such a shock to you? You felt nothing for the death of Diana, no shocks at blood, at Death itself. Why run from the truth?_

I couldn't; this was the truth, all of it. Her death seemed natural, like it was inevitable, like nothing could be done, so no fuss was needed. There was no surprise; no feeling of any kind, as though all of my nerves had gone dead.

I could say that they had been deadened by the exposure to the No-Hopers' deaths, but that too would be lying – the first witnessing of a death caused by Denyxinil, though essentially the same as any fledgling death, had held nothing for me. No fear. No pain. No grief.

Nothing.

_You've never felt anything for the living, nothing but contempt. You can't love, you don't have the capacity._

My parents had been nothing but care-givers, there to clothe, feed, love me and finance my wants and needs. While I could say I appreciated their gifts as any child would, there was no supplementary feeling there, nothing like love.

I could also say that wasn't completely true – from what I could remember of my early life, of when I was barely three years old, I was full of love for my carers. They were everything to me.

But that is to be expected. No child that age gives voluntary love or feels appreciation on such a complex scale. Every child feels their world is with their parents, for that is all they know; there is no elective wish to appreciate, or give back. To a child, they themselves are the world, and the sun that the world revolves around, and I cannot have been the exception.

In recent years, when I felt something at all, with any intensity, it was contempt for the vampyre race, pure hatred for their kind and what they had been doing to humans, disgust over their existence. That had been the only thing, and every day, even now, I have to suppress it enough that it didn't show on my face, lest I be punished for it, and consumed by it.

And then it struck me. For all of the day, from when I last fell asleep to now, I had thought nothing of my mother's death, felt nothing for the demise of such a loving care-giver as her. When this happens to a normal child (or even a normal person in general), this is all they can think about, it's all-consuming. For a while, they seem unable to recover, almost dead until the idea eventually sinks in, they accept it, and they begin to move on. And yet, for me, thinking about it now, it seems I had already reached the fifth stage of grief, already moved on to concentrate on the finding of her killer.

What kind of monster would do that? What kind?

This kind. Me. The one who doesn't have a soul, who never owned one to begin with.

_You're empty._

Before I realised that I'd let go of the elements, that I'd lost the battle, it was already lost and Neferet was blowing out the candles, sending away the elements in reverse order. As she announced the end, I felt my strength fade to a miniscule presence, to the point that, as the circle broke apart, and fledglings began to file out of the room; I took a few short steps back and ended my journey with my back against the wall, barely able to hold myself up. I only had enough energy to leave my head hung, to keep my knees from buckling.

Lifting my head, I saw Zoey and her gang talking, not happy like the others, but concerned. Did they notice my reaction to the Ritual? The way it's left me barely able to stand for the weakness and depression it gave me?

I didn't find out: Instead, I watched from peripheral vision as Darius entered the room, having to wrestle his way through the throngs of fledglings to stand in front of Neferet and Shekinah, both of them swapping concerned looks as he spoke, handing something over to Neferet, which she inspected fervently in her hand, hiding it from the view of all others – but too late, I caught a mere glimpse of silver.

No… is that… my cross? From the statue's hand?

Eyes still fixed on Neferet's conversing with Darius and Shekinah, it was only when someone shook my shoulder gently that I came back to the foreground.

"Light?" Zoey asked, "Are you okay? You don't look so good." I looked up to meet her eyes then, examining the look of trepidation they held, and for good reason: The first sign of someone rejecting the Change was always illness and weakness, and then they would be gone very soon after that.

"Well," she said finally, "if you're sure… but you have to tell me what's up later. Oh yeah, and Damien told me to remind you that you've got detention with Neferet in her classroom now. He also says good luck."

Ah, and then I remembered it too: Starting tonight, I was to have 18 detentions, and of them issued by Neferet herself. It sounds harsh, but as this was a punishment considered just before being expelled and exposed to the outside world to die, I was fortunate.

I was also dead meat, so to speak.

Not even waiting for the others, I picked myself up again, and as my strength began to slowly return, I exited the room, following the path I come down until I left the Temple, and began my slow journey to Neferet's classroom, to await my most possible death.

**Incredible. I finally have a story with chapters in the double-digits! I would say 'I couldn't have done it without you' but that would be lying. I'm gonna write this, whether or not I get reviews. For me, this chapter was one with (probably) the most metaphorical material, you know? What was the hardest thing to come up with was the chapter title, which I had to come up with last minute. **

**One thing I forgot to mention in the A/N of the last chapter was that, while I only had one hour's worth of experience of fencing, I had just a bit more experience of horse riding. Hopefully this will help later on for this fic, and maybe its sequel – that's right, I'm planning on doing a sequel to this sometime in the future. There will be more on this when I've planned more on it.**

**While chapter 11 is pretty hard to write, it'll be up soon.**

**Until next time,**

**Thank you and please R&R,**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	11. X Burned

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**When it gets you down that we are overrun with non-authentic vampire literature, this is when you should seek out a real piece of vampire literature, like Dracula, or Let The Right One In. As for Twilight, it is neither a piece about real vampires, nor literature. The same with House of Night. **

* * *

><p>Chapter X<p>

Burned

I arrived at Neferet's classroom just in time and entered; only to find that she was already inside, still wearing her Ritual dress as she sat behind her desk. As she spied me entering, she did both the first and last thing I expected her to do: She smiled knowingly, almost lovingly at me, her eyes never leaving me even as I turned to close the door.

Shut out from the relative safety of the outside world, I stood in wait, bracing myself for an attack, so sure she knew my secret, so sure she'd-

"Thank you for coming, Light," She said, still smiling. "I'm glad to see that you kept your word."

"I'd never avoid such an obligation." I answered, putting on my obedient student act for her.

"Good," she stood up out of her seat, walking out from behind her desk to sit in front and against it. "Because you and I need to have a little talk." Slowly, she lifted her right fist. Suddenly, the cross dropped from within the fist, still hanging on the chain as it swayed gently.

"How did you get this?" she asked, her tone deceptively sweet. "Do you know anything about that?"

I let my eyes drift away, breaking contact in a sheepish manner, before I answered in a whisper, "Yes." Neferet's head titled at the answer, as though interested in what I actually had to say. "I wore it today," I continued," but I took it off. I put it around Nyx's hand just before the ritual. No one saw me, but that's the truth." And indeed, I couldn't help but give her the truth. Her green eyes seemed to be able to drag it out of me with nothing but a gaze.

She began walking towards me, stopping when she was barely inches away from me. "Well done, you _clever boy!_" Her voice was quiet, yet seductive. "After all the grief the school has suffered from the 'People of Faith'," she punctuated the term with air quotes, "the fledglings are going to see this symbol of their religion on the grounds, and be sure it was that sect! No one would suspect the real culprit!"

"The… the real culprit?" Now, I'd only briefly heard of the murders that had taken place those few days ago, and so I only really knew that the People of Faith were heavily suspected by the vampyres and fledglings alike, but… the 'real culprit'? Did she mean that-?

She gave a seductive laugh, "Me, of course! Did you forget the plan already, after taking possession so suddenly?"

Was she… mistaking me for someone else? What did she mean?

"You'll have to refresh my memory, I'm afraid." I answered, injecting more confidence into my voice, mirroring her tone without the sexualised hint.

She laughed again. "But of course! Is that body so awful for you? I wouldn't be surprised if it was."

"It suffices." I answered. I could sense more of the evil monster within her than I had from any vampyre thus far. She would be the form of the danger I was expecting. I had to play along then, at least until all was clear.

"We're staring the war, remember?" she replied, her eyes shining from the moonlight outside. "A great, bloody, beautiful war between the vampyres and humans, one where we shall reign victorious, and you shall have your revenge, my dear."

I nearly slipped out of character at 'dear' and so it was with a concentrated effort that I showed no negative reaction to her lust-filled pleas. "Of course." So, did she know of my plan to kill that vampyre, this revenge I needed to have more than any other?

She threw the cross to the floor, and she edged closer to me, pushing me back until I was sat against a desk, her legs half-straddling mine. She held my right arm tightly at the elbow, placing her other hand against my chest possessively, a stark contrast to the soft touch Zoey had offered barely an hour before. Neferet's face pressed closer, her face barely inches away from mine, her body unashamedly warm and needy.

"Why," she finally whispered, "why did you choose this body? It's so strongly-willed against vampyres, I know, but…"

"Who know how this works?" I asked back, "The manner of choosing was too much for me to fathom, myself. I suppose if there was a reason to it," I mimicked her pattern, referring to myself as the 'it', allowing her to think of me as someone else, as a visitor in a disposable body, in the interest of my personal safety, "then it would know."

_Ask a stupid question; get a stupid answer, High Priestess._

She laughed quietly, a voice filled with desire. "I suppose some physical attributes were accounted for," she said, "for it to bind so well with you."

"I suppose they were."

"Why don't we…" she leaned in closer, breath rattling at my ear, "test those out?" Before I could object, her hands had shot up inside my blazer and pulled it off. It fell off my shoulders, dropping onto the desk. As fast as lightning, she'd undone the buttons of my dress shirt, letting it hang open, not yet making to pull it right off. She pushed me down until my back hit the desk, quickly straddling me, leaning over me and I couldn't stop it. She had strength I'd never known a woman to possess.

I began to panic. I couldn't get away in this position, nor had I the full strength enough to fight, not yet.

"This body is strange." She surmised. She looked down at it in a look of total fascination, practically drinking in my near-nakedness with her eyes. I rested my head side-on, avoiding her gaze, unwilling to watch as she stared at my body like that. She gripped my arm around the elbow again. Taking hold of my chin, she forced me to face her again, and she pushed back my fringe roughly, almost desperate to see what lay beneath it. "There's a scar here," she said, leaning down and brushing her tongue against the scar tissue, following the line as I struggled not to shiver. "It's obviously old, it seems to have stretched from age and growth. It healed long ago, but it's so vivid, like new. And the Mark…"

_Did… did she know? What did she know, what has she guessed already?_

"… It's filled in, just like Zoey Redbird's was. Could it be it has found favour with the _Goddess?_" Away from prying eyes, with only me in her company, she spat the word, like it was bitter on her tongue, like… 'mazui'.

"The Goddess hasn't showed herself to it yet." I admitted. I wasn't sure whether I was still playing along or not anymore. "I doubt she ever will."

"You're probably right," she answered, smiling, "She must be too proud to admit She failed where I succeeded."

"Succeeded?" I asked, giving a suitably quizzical look, "In what?"

"Bringing you here, of course! Don't tell me that its brain is as slow as I think it is!"

"It isn't!" I caught myself, covering my mouth. That insult towards my intelligence had crossed a line somewhere, and I'd almost betrayed myself. "I, I mean, I doubt it's slow. I am still getting used to it, but it seems to have a few tricks up its sleeve."

"Speaking of which," she replied, "I found something else on it when you came here, while it was unconscious." At that, she pulled the shirt down until the shirt fell billowing at the elbows. Lifting up my right arm to inspect it, she said, "This scar, here. It's like the forehead scar, like…" she seemed to drift into thoughtfulness as a finger traced it, starting a couple of inches above the elbow at the peak height of the upper arm, moving down at a curve through the inner crook of the elbow, to two inches below the joint, to the middle point of the paler underside, where it barely avoided veins. At length, she spoke, "Do you think it has been tasted before?" Her voice held desire once more, an unspoken wish to do to me as one vampyre had done before, to 'taste me'. It sent a shiver down my spine. A real one.

_What vampyre can control the urge to feed? Once they start, they won't stop: That's the rule._

"Who knows?" I asked rhetorically. "Its memories are… inconsequential, below my interest."

"Inconsequential… or private? Do you wish to respect its privacy, like it has rights?"

"For the honour of being my vessel, it deserves some rights." I answered.

She thought about that answer, before giving one of her own with a knowing smile, "Of course. But, without you, it is nothing." Her hand returned to its grip around my arm, hard, around the scar. She leaned in further, until her face was hovering at my neck, her other hand on my shoulder. Without warning, one of her long nails drew against my neck, forming a cut. With the itch, I felt the first few drops of blood bead through.

_She… she's going to drink from me, try to finish the job! Don't let her, don't let her, stop!_

My thoughts became a rush, a babble of fear and anger. My panic rose, my breathing fast as adrenaline coursed through my veins, forcing my hand. _Fight or flight, decide now!_

Before her lips could reach the cut, she turned to look at me, gazing through half-lidded eyes, through a face glazed over with lust and passion. "May I, my lord? My… Kalona?"

_Wait, what? _"Kalona? Who's Kalona?"

Her face changed in an instant, all lust chased away. Her eyes were wide with shock, soon replaced with anger as the revelation kicked in: I wasn't who she thought I was. I'd played her along for a fool, and, with her blessing, I knew the basics of what she was planning. Her eyes narrowed, her straight white teeth bared in anger. "Don't," she growled, "don't you play me like that!"

Just like that, she practically pounced, laying me fully against the desk, ferocious in the hunt. I tried to struggle under her grip, from under her body, but she was far too strong, and far too angry to boot. Smiling with hate, with bloodlust, her hand completely clasped around the arm-scar, she slowly lowered her head to my neck, parting her lips, moving closer, closer.

My heart pumped harder, faster, my breathing ragged with fear and panic. Already, I could see myself surrounded by… _ah_… blood, organs exposed in bodies recumbent on the floor, dead. Among them, a familiar face, a teenager, _me_.

Suddenly, a scream of pain and rage, ripping her hand away from my arm and clutching her wrist. Stood up and inching away from the desk, she looked down at her hand with wide, fear-stricken eyes, then down to me again, her wrath amplified. Her hand drooping back, her palm faced me, the damage fully visible to me: A fresh, angry burn adorned the whole palm, split in half by a thin line of healthy, unmarred flesh. It had cooked through the skin to the red muscle beneath, cauterized a deep sickening brown, liked browned mince. The flesh on her fingers, on the stretch of pads between joints, had suffered damage, but on nearly so much. Just blisters.

I felt sick just looking at it.

Giving no time to think nor to wonder, I got up, shrugged my shirt back onto my shoulders and picked up my blazer, carrying it pressed to my front as I ran for the door. I made it, turned a corner and ran, ran as far away from the bloodthirsty monster as I could.

* * *

><p>When I finally stopped running, I was outside the Dining Hall. The fledglings were still eating their dinner. Catching my breath outside the entryway, I took the time to button up my shirt, covering up my exposed chest and torso. It was only then, as I moved my right arm, that I felt the sting of pain there, right where Neferet had squeezed it. I pulled back the sleeve; a nasty-looking burn was branded there. It was nowhere near as serious as hers but it was there, all but the scar tissue marred. What was more, red marks around it indicated where she'd left thumb and finger prints, looking more like little scalds than actual burns.<p>

I sighed. That was going to leave a scar there, for sure. It lay on a joint, so healing would be a longer, more painful process than normal.

I made to enter the Dining Hall and sit with the others, and I would have, had a thought not crossed my mind: I was still meant to be in detention right now, and with the burn on my arm, they would surely start asking questions, questions that I had no intention of answering.

It was with this knowledge that I turned away, running instead to the boys' dorm where I planned to stay until tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Finding new refuge in the common room, I spent the best part of an hour occupying an armchair as I read King's <em>Carrie<em>, sitting with my back against one arm and my legs hanging over the other (I assumed, somewhat, that if I wasn't to be in detention with a psycho-bitch, I may as well be using my spare time to study one in text-form). My shirt buttoned up once more, I'd had to roll up the right sleeve to the elbow to stop it from irritating the burn.

After more than half-an-hour of reading, Jack and Damien finally entered in from dinner, talking quietly amongst themselves. Spotting them, I put the book down by the chair, crossing the couple's path to walk into the kitchen extension. By the time I'd poured myself a glass of water, Damien had already gone through to the dormitory, and Jack was loitering, looking at one of the televisions through the corner of his eyes. It was only when I passed by him again, sipping my water as I passed that he noticed me, catching hold of my arm to stop me in my tracks.

"How did your detention-" He'd begun like that, only to stop himself. "What's that on your arm?" he asked, his blue eyes large with concern. I put the glass down on the side, matching his gaze with one of my own.

"It's nothing, really." I answered. "There's no need to be concerned."

"Why shouldn't I?" He gave a slight pout. "That's a burn, isn't it? And is that a-"

"It's fine." I lifted my right arm to him, to give him a closer look without him having to pull at the sore appendage. "It's gone down a lot since I got it, so don't worry about it."

"Where'd you get that scar?"

"That one's old." I got it when I was, like, three years old. Don't worry about it." I made my voice unconcerned, but firm on him, making my feelings clear.

"But I do worry! You're my roommate, you know!"

"Who asked you to say that?" I asked, "Damien? I know you're still mad at me, so you don't have to talk to me."

"But-"

I cut across him, holding up a hand to silence him as I drunk the rest of the water. "It's fine. I'm going back to the bedroom. I need to sleep." Giving him no chance to reply, I walked away from him, going through the door to the dormitory corridor without a second glance.

_He hasn't followed me. He won't be in my way, at least. _

There were no footsteps other than my own. Walking past the sky-blue door of mine and Jack's room, I continued down to the end until I found myself in front of a white door standing ajar. I imagined it was Damien's room, that he'd not closed the door yet. Putting a fist to the door, I knocked gently three times. With barely a pause, a boy replied from within.

"Come in." Damien's voice. I opened the door. Walking in, I found him at his desk, a textbook opened out in front of him as he did homework. Eventually he looked up, stared at me for a second, before giving a smile. "Hey Light. What's up?" he stood up out of his seat, gesturing towards his bed. "Sit down, will you?"

I took the invitation, and sat down on the bed, taking a look around the room. It was smallish room, about half the size of mine and Jack's, at least. There was only one bed, one desk, one chair – unlike the other rooms; it was furnished out for one person. On the walls, he'd hung a _300 _wall scroll and a poster of Jake Gyllenhaal. Save for the hangings, the décor was simple in a studiously practical kind of way, with a digital alarm clock, plain black bed covers, and an artist's easel in a corner (he must be taking the Art elective). With framed photographs standing on his book shelves and a chest of drawers at the side of his bed, all his other personal effects seemed to have been tidied away in a manner that even I would approve of.

When I looked back to the room's inhabitant, he was sitting beside me on the bed, his expression gentle, yet radiating concern. "What's up?" he asked.

Sitting beside him, closer to a fledgling than I'd usually even dare, my ulterior motive crawled back into my immediate thoughts. I looked him straight in the eye. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Really?" he asked. I had to remember to commend him for the mild response. "Is there something you're having trouble with? Did Neferet give you a hard time?"

"It's nothing like that," I answered, "but you've got to promise you won't tell the others what I'm going to tell you."

"You want me to… keep a secret?" His face fell. I didn't know whether it was a sign of moral decency or something else altogether that he reacted as he did: Most people relish the opportunity to be given such responsibility.

"No, I just need to tell you this in confidence. I'll tell the others later, but…" My voice drifted, driving the point.

"You're trusting me first." It wasn't a question, more a statement of acknowledgement.

"Yes. I'm sure you'll understand. I just don't have any evidence that Zoey won't tell the others."

"And you think I won't?" Odd. Most people would acknowledge that I considered talking to someone else. His concern is that I'm extending a measure of trust his way.

"Not unless you're still mad at me for earlier." I let my eyes drift from his, an expression of remorse on my face.

Damien gave a sigh. "No, I'm not mad at you. No one's first day at the House of Night goes well, mine included. As long as you apologise to Drew and Jack, I won't say anything else about it."

I simply stared back. _Why would a fledgling trust me like that – no, just forgive me like that?_

The idea was negated by its very statement. A human can trust, forgive, even pretend to do any and all of these things. But a fledgling?

"Thank you." I said. "Now, can I tell you?"

Damien nodded. "Go ahead." I had to pause for that. Starved by the Neferet issue, the questions in my head began to surface now, desperate to be asked and answered. It had been delayed until over an hour after the situation first surfaced, but right now, it was supper time for my Curiosity.

I chose the first question carefully. "At the ritual for Nyx, when you stand in the circle… what do you feel?"

Damien's eye's widened, but he didn't do much else. "What do you mean, what do I feel?"

"Zoey said that each of you have an affinity for an element, right?"

He nodded. "I see what you mean now. Well, I have an affinity for Air, so when we – Zoey, Erin, Shaunee, Aphrodite and I – cast circles, that's what I feel. I feel that, well, resonance for Air every time, like Shaunee will feel it for Fire, and Erin with for Water, and Zoey will for all the elements. We even feel a link with our element's direction, mine being East, of course."

"I see, so a 'resonance' with an element would indicate an affinity for it?"

"Yes, I believe so. Why did you ask? Did you feel a resonance or something? Like, a particular surge of energy from-"

"Yes. I certainly felt something for them."

"For _them?_ As in, elements _plural?_" He was bordering excitement, barely able to contain himself. "Oh my Goddess, which ones?"

"There was…" I closed my eyes, casting my mind back to the Ritual, to that which had sucked so much energy out of me. "Air… Fire… Water and… Earth, I think."

Constricted. Couldn't breathe. I was enveloped in a tight hug, a gleeful shout of "well done, you!" in both ears. I couldn't reciprocate, paralysed with fear, panic; he'd pounced in attack and I was cornered. It wasn't 'fight' or 'flight' anymore – it was 'stand and take it'.

He must have felt my body tense up, for he let go, emitting a nervous cough. _Why be so ashamed of yourself? You're only doing what comes natural to your kind, after all. Coward._

"So you felt something for Earth?" He asked, "And those other three? What about the fifth?"

"I've not pleaded it, if that's what you're asking."

He smiled at the joke. _As if monsters could have a sense of humour_. "No, silly. Spirit. Did you feel a resonance for Spirit?"

My mood darkened. I was sure it could be seen on my face. "No, I felt nothing."

"What? Really?" he asked. "How fascinating…"

"Fascinating?" I whispered the words, barely keeping the contempt out of them.

"Well, Spirit is, after all, the element that binds the four-"

"How is it 'fascinating' that there is something so obviously wrong with me?"

He flinched at the snarl. "What, what do you mean, something 'wrong'?"

"How is it 'fascinating' that a fledgling died in a pool of blood in front of me today, and I felt nothing? How is it 'fascinating' that I just found out about my own mother's death this morning, that she's been dead for two days and I've barely given it a thought until now?"

"Wait… what-?" His eyes were wide, in a state of non-believing.

"Now," I continued, almost shouting, "how is it 'fascinating' that all this adds up to the fact that I am, in all possibility, soulless?

"Do you need it explaining in layman's terms?" I asked. My voice turned to rationalising, not to petty anger. "I only have the capacity to hate. I've never an ounce of love for anyone or anything. Death doesn't repulse me, and it has no effect whatsoever. I'm a psycho, and you know it."

"Surely… surely that's not true." He offered. "Everyone has a soul, believe me. I mean, you wouldn't have been Marked or gifted hadn't you had a soul to begin with."

_Marked? Gifted? This is what you call it? I don't want to even think of the scum I'll become, thanks to your Benevolent Goddess! You're a murderous, blood-thirsty creature, just like the rest of them! What do you know about souls and gifts?_

A manifestation to the physical ensued. A sudden urge to… to… destroy. Destroy this offender, this infector of minds forcing me to embrace what I couldn't even bear to think about, that there was a Mark on my forehead Marking me as one of them forever, should I live.

A deep breath. I centred myself, and uttered with a quiet voice. "You don't believe me? I lack simple empathy. I tried to _kill_ you today, and I nearly succeeded." I leaned forward, my eyes locking on his. "Do you need a demonstration?" Without a second thought, I closed my eyes, giving myself up to selfish reason. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I leaned in closer and pressed my lips against his. His body tensed against my touch, but just slightly. He didn't resist.

Our lips soon broke apart, and I looked him in the eye. "Do you understand?" I asked. "That was my first kiss. I felt nothing from it."

_You should understand what I mean. The soulless cannot feel anything. Love is nothing to them and us._

Damien merely smiled back at me as he whispered, "That's because it should've been like this." Before I could draw breath, he pressed his lips back onto mine, kissing softly, earnestly. I began kissing back. A hand found its way to my hair, the fingers tangling in the strands. Caught up, I reciprocated, placing both hands to the back of his head, grasping firmly. As his soft lips opened slightly, his warm tongue asked for entrance. I allowed, and it entered, massaging against mine.

His pulse. I could feel it, fast and strong, beating against my touch. His heart was still nestled in his chest, almost calling to me, begging me to find it, to free it from its fleshy cage. I pressed my hand against his chest, over his heart. My nails dug into the skin, desperate to touch it, to feel it beat again and again.

Before I could fight it, I was driven by the beat. The kisses deepened, and I became impassioned, fully. Only briefly, I was aware of grinding against him in the blur, moaning softly for him, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure in the heat, that incessant need.

Almost as though just waking for the first time, I became suddenly aware of every detail. His hand gripped my hip, his other on my left wrist; he held it down by my head as he took to kissing and licking at my throat. He had me held down, my back against the bed and my head hanging over the end, exposing my throat to him. My right hand still held against his heart, unwilling to let go despite the pain of the burn, of it bending between us. His weight was fully pressed against me, my legs were parted and he lay between them, his hips grinding softly now but still there, dragging a gasp from me each time.

The reality came back; hit me like a golden brick as his teeth scraped just slightly against my skin.

_A, a fledg- A vampyre… holding me down- so close-_

The vision flit through my head. I was there again, in the nightmare once more. _**Blood, everywhere- him, holding me down, teeth… red, tattoos… sapphire blue in the dark. Nails cut against skin, screams… laughter.**_

My heart beat quickened, my breathing heightened, faster to a point that I couldn't breathe. Adrenaline pumped through my system, really pumped, intensifying the panic, the fear.

_**Cooing, English tones meant to sooth. Blood dripped, looked away… she lay, red, unable to wake… Screams, tuts…**_

"_**What a fighter!"**_

My whole body tensed against him, shaking with the tension, teeth gritted. All my fingers splayed out to form claws, desperately fighting, seeking the artery of the attacker looming over me.

_**The great shadow, looming, red, white, blue, nail, cut, smile, laugh. **_

"No." A whisper, just barely, through adrenaline, through pants, the forced suppression of another moan. Still, he lay against me, his throat resting so close to the heart, my hand against his. "Don't." No change in response. Just his hands, cold, pulling at my belt. Just his lips, tongue, and teeth. All warm. "Please."

_**The monster, grinning, features changed- Damien's face, brown eyes red, tattoos fully Marking. A whisper of words, head lowered… bite, lick, crunch…**_

_**Snap. **_

I couldn't hold on. I screamed. Loud. I pushed, threw him off. He fell, a blur of black, purple, brown.

I could breathe again, but it was hard and fast, laboured. My teeth were bared. Damien lay against the bed on his back. I kneeled over him, my legs straddling his, my hands holding his wrists by his head. My eyes bore into his, drilling into him with hate, my antipathy naked to him.

"No!" I yelled, a growl of hate. "No!" My breathing steadying, I had to inhale, then swallow. Caught beneath me, a predator in the position of common prey, his eyes were full of fear. "This is how we do this," I said, "if at all." As he shivered, so wonderfully scared, I lowered my head, my mouth open, then widening. When my face was so close to his throat that my breath was tickling the skin with ease, I opened my jaws wider still until they locked, lower teeth against his right jugular, upper teeth against his left. Without a warning, I bit, closed my jars around his neck, just soft enough to barely break the skin, hard enough to be felt.

I felt him cry out in my jaws, a dry sob of pain and fear as I felt his pulse, another convulse. Slowly, I unlocked, freeing him, lifting my head to face him once more.

"I can kill you," I whispered it, but I knew he could hear me, "you're filth, and you deserve it." I gave a sigh, and the corners of my mouth lifted. "But… I won't. Your life is mine, and I want to see you alive just a little longer. I won't miss again, not like I did with the foil.

"You're alive because I'm permitting it. Remember that." Turning my attention to his right hand, I raised my thumb off his wrist, pressing it into the flesh of his palm. With the swiftest of movements; I slashed the nail across it. I watched for a moment as the line turned white, then beaded red across the flesh.

Smoothly, I got off him, and I was standing by the bed. Without looking back at him, I opened the door and left, making to walk back down the corridor to my room.

Although I only heard it as I left, I was so sure that, as the fledgling lay there, its hand bleeding gently, it was crying and sobbing…

… And it was all because of me.

* * *

><p><strong>This was a chapter I've been looking forward to doing for a long time, and now I've done it. This is boding really well, considering that we are well over halfway through this fic. Remember how I never mentioned any of the pairings that were to take place in this, except to say that they were largely as they were in the first four books? Well, that's because I wanted you to be shocked for this instead. I know that this chapter title is the same as the title of one of the original books, but I chose it all the same, just because it was appropriate. <strong>

**Because the readership of this fic isn't as large as it could be, I'm gonna do some fan-art for this fic and other fics too. If there are any scenes from the previous chapters that you want me to have a go at drawing, then just say so in your reviews. Thank you! **

**Chapter 12 will be up in due time, but since I'm working on 'The Art of Subconscious Illusion: Rewritten' and the fan-arts, there might be a little wait.**

**Until next time, and please R&R,**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	12. XI Fooled

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**If there's one thing I have to say I like about the HON series, it's the educational value it has for this generations and all generations to come: Vampire fiction, fantasy fiction, any fiction at all… children, this is **_**not**_** how to write it! **

* * *

><p>Chapter XI<p>

Fooled

It was 9AM on the morning of December 30th when I woke up: approximately 4 hours after the conversation with Damien the night before. It was only the second day sleeping in my new room, and yet Sleep was as elusive a friend as the first day. My thoughts had plagued me until exhaustion caught up with me, forcing my mind to reluctantly settle with unconsciousness. When I did sleep, the thoughts had swarmed even then, filling my mind with the same nightmare as the one before; the only change was that Damien held the starring role of the attacker, the face in the memory that had burned itself into my head 13 years ago.

Admittedly, my awakening had been less than peaceful; covered in sweat, I'd awoken with a start, finding myself sitting up in bed. I didn't remember screaming, or making any noise at all, but it was still enough to wake Jack, who seemed to be one of the heaviest sleepers I'd ever known.

Amazingly enough, he didn't seem to mind being woken up in that manner (at least, not that morning). In fact, he merely gave me a tired smile, turned over, and suggested that I go off-campus to explore Tulsa in all its shopping-related glory. "You should try Utica Square, but wear shades," he'd warned, "and use the concealer in the bathroom, too. There'll be warrior-guards, so go by the tree on the East wall. Oh, and be careful, 'kay?" After that little speech, he'd gone right back to sleep.

A shower later, I'd dressed into some non-school clothing, all originating from Dr Primrose's rucksack of tricks: White skinny jeans, a white dress shirt, and white converse high-tops: It had been a practice among the No-Hopers in the years gone by to share out the clothing of the others once there'd reached the ECU; once a No-Hoper was gone, his or her clothes would still be there to serve the remaining guinea-pigs. Although the High Priestess had indeed stressed that I never leave the House of Night in any school uniform, I was still glad to be able to leave in something that revealed nothing of my current abode, that held no ties to the Coven of the Damned.

Once dressed, I was back in the bathroom, facing the mirror that – I had to admit I didn't notice until now – was the façade for the door of a medicine cabinet. Swinging the door towards me, I found the concealer on one of the shelves among other stray containers of moisturisers and lip-gloss, sitting underneath the cover of a folded paper note. Picking up the note, I read it.

"_If you wish to leave the HON campus, apply this concealer to your Mark (HON rules). Don't use too much in one go, less is more!_

"_Be safe."_

At the top, the name 'Jack Twist' had been crossed out, my name scrawled next to it. At the bottom, the name 'Erik Night' had been similarly nullified and replaced with 'Jack Twist' under a _"Thank you!" _that sat below the first sender's name and above Jack's. I smiled. _So, was Professor Night Jack's roommate before? _The coincidence was more of an amusement than anything meaningful or disturbing, all truth be told.

Getting the idea, I found a pencil sitting on the same shelf, and wrote a little 'Thank You' at the bottom of the note before replacing it back on the shelf. The concealer itself, I found as I applied it over the filled-in Mark on my forehead, was designed for all skin-tones, and it blended in easily, completely covering the sapphire-blue tattoo. By the end of that short procedure, it was almost as though I'd never been Marked to begin with. The thought made me beam back at my reflection, pleased enough to overlook the paler complexion, even the red-tinted hair – those were all easy to live with, compared to the stress and revulsion of the Mark itself.

Finding a pair of sunglasses in the rucksack (a pair that once sat on the ear of that same Primrose), and slipping them over my own eyes, I armed myself with my wallet and a book in the rucksack, and left the room. Soon enough, I was at the dorm's front door. Opening it slowly, I found myself bathed in the bright, harsh light of day, sensing it beating heavily on my face, making me glad of the shades shielding my eyes from those rays. With a deep, preparatory breath, I stepped out into the open and closed the door behind me, and walked with haste to the East wall, a place marked out by the overgrown tree leaning on the brick.

I stood by the tree, rested a hand against the lightning-split trunk, and took a cursory glance of my surroundings: There were indeed Sons of Erebus Warriors posted at the front gates, and at other obvious entrances. If I had any hope of getting outside the campus walls, I would indeed have to climb up the tree and risk staining my clothes in the process. As for the inevitable jump down on the other side? I'd have to hope I was made of sterner stuff in my current condition, and could absorb the shock waves on impact without receiving a broken leg or a twisted ankle.

Taking hold of a hanging branch, and placing my foot in the vertical groove, I heaved myself up into the tree, using the branches as ladder rungs whenever I could. With less effort than I'd anticipated (for I'd never before given thought to preparing myself for the event of vertical climbs), I was soon high in the tree, and standing on the top of the wall as I looked over the edge; there was a greater drop to the civilian sidewalk than I'd risen from the monster's ground, high enough that even vampyres could be troubled by it, where a rank coppery stench still lingered, though it couldn't be seen.

I would have prepared myself for such a lemming-style great escape, was there not a convenient rope tied to a thick branch and hanging down to the sidewalk below. Sending a prayer to the great god of Humanitarianism (to the inspiration of Science, Enlightenment, Logic, and the occasional Random Event, may he rest in the Eternal Home of Glasgow), I told hold of the rope, twisted round and abseiled lightly down, landing smoothly and swiftly on the sidewalk facing the Human-Only façade of the House of Night, where only a trace of the odour lingered still, attaching itself to link to a distant memory, like total recall.

But… it wouldn't do to dwell on that just now; the sun still beat heavily down on me, unshielded by non-existent clouds. Lowering my head, I broke into a swift jog from the East wall, and began following the signs to the only commercial signs for miles around – to Utica Square.

Over the five years that I'd stayed at the Research Facility, I had been to Utica Square shopping centre numerous times, usually accompanied by a plain-clothed staff nurse, occasionally by Dr Summers out of her lab coat (what she lacked in self-confidence she made up for in shopping expertise, and so she made for an excellent teacher in this respect – being that she'd spent most of her life in New York city, I wasn't surprised). Considering the amount of money I was paid by Dr Primrose to work for the team and the amount I was often left with once I'd sent money back to Japan for my family, I never found myself short of money, even after a spot of over-indulgence at the stores.

However, I'd never gone to Utica Square unaccompanied before, and never before from the House of Night. Nevertheless, I remember enough about the layout of the area that, if I followed the sign posts down S. Yorktown Avenue, past the Temple Israel Synagogue, and took the second-left turning to face away from Monte Cassino School, I was soon at Utica Square, and strolling through car parks towards the shops.

I made the American Eagle my first port of call, buying first a pair of Aviator sunglasses with almost black lenses to replace Dr Primrose's gift (while his had strong enough UV protection, they were undoubtedly unsuited for me or the current decade). Along with these, I bought a messenger bag, perfect for day-to-day book-carrying. In another store, The Gap, I found a couple of pairs of black skinny fit jeans, perfect for both in and out of classes.

During the whole shopping trip, it had occurred to me that someone was very likely still mad at me, someone who wouldn't be as swift to forgive as Damien had been – his only saving grace as a decent vampyre, if he had one. As quickly as that thought had occurred, I'd soon found the perfect gift for him, paying for it at the checkout before I could change my mind.

By the time this shopping was over, and I'd had my fill of the shops, having put on my new shades, it was well past noon, well past, and the sun was having a hard time penetrating the new lens, despite it shining brighter still. What was more, I hadn't eaten anything for a long while, and I was thirsty. Thirsty for a large, strong, dark cup of coffee.

* * *

><p>KAYLA<p>

Oh. Em. Gee! I just adore these sorts of days, with the sun out, sitting in Starbucks with all my bezzie-mates, chatting about all the customers, and being all like, "Nice ass, right?" and "Who does she think she is, Beyoncé?"

I mean, what's better than, like, just being with your girlfriends, and being totally, irresistibly single?

Probably being with a hot guy, and hanging out with your girlfriends too, while they got to know what it's like to be third-wheels.

Anyways, today I was just sitting with Corrine, Darcy, Ally and Emi in Starbucks, in a booth not far away from the door, just peep-watching the other patrons (yeah, like I don't pay attention in class) as they walk in and out of the coffee shop. Yeah, we'll giggle and point, especially if we see anyone from our high school – I mean, travelling here all the way from Broken Arrow totally calls for making our trip worth it.

After sipping our Frappuccinos for half an hour, talk turned right round to guys, of course.

"Ugh, me 'rentals have _so_ not stopped bugging me about that whole thing with Dug, seriously." Corrine sighed, and we all totally went to her rescue on it.

"Please, just please," said Darcy, "just because a guy likes to smoke a joint once in a while does so not make him a bad person!"

"I know what you mean," said Ally, "my Mom's been a total bitch ever since she caught me in the same goddamned room as Carter the other day. Geez, that woman just won't let go!"

"So you're gonna blame her, even though you two were in your bedroom at the time, and he had his guitar-strumming hands all over you?"

"Oh, shut it, Emi," Ally shot back at her, "everyone knows your mommy and daddy want you to hurry up and find yourself a nice Japanese boyfriend before you get too old to get knocked up!"

Emi, being the shy girl she was, just blushed and looked back down at her drink again. I swear, that girl needs a few lessons in self-esteem… and a totally Anti-Geek-Chic makeover. While Geek-Chic might suit most Asian girls, I so don't think 'I+U=r++++' slogan tees are even cute anymore. She may as well just pull up the waistband on those cute jeans of hers and go a creepin' for the father of her parents' grandchildren.

Suddenly, a cell phone began to beep Pac Man themes, and Emi gave a tiny sigh of relief. "Sorry guys, that's me." Tapping a button, she didn't have to ask who it was before someone was yelling from the other end. "_Kaasan?_" she whispered, going straight into panic mode, "_Daijoubu_?" Before she could continue, she pulled the cell away from her ear, put a hand over the cell and walked out, making her excuses.

Before the door could even swing shut again, someone else came in – a hot someone else! Seriously, that was the first thing I thought when this guy came in: He was kinda tall, dressed all in white (jeans, sneakers, everything!), looking totally cool. Not only that, but he had the most amazing hair I've ever seen on a guy – a deep, vibrant red, and not ginger red; a blood red. He was even wearing a totally cool pair of Aviators indoors, like he had a license to_ thrill_ or something.

I would've made him mine right there and then, if I weren't with my friends and their disapproving looks.

"Wow, I didn't know Reverse-Goth was the in-thing now," said Ally with a smirk.

"Nice butt," I whispered, ignoring her snide remark.

"Yeah, I suppose he's got the mysterious-stranger thing going on, with the shades and all." Commented Darcy. "He's cute, but I can see him being too suitable for Emi to date with with her mama's permission."

"Why?" I asked, "Just because he's Asian?"

"No," answered Corrine, "Because he looks like a total scholar-on-vacation. Sheesh, he looks so uptight he could be a bureaucrat when he leaves Harvard with a Doctorate in Point-Dexter."

I narrowed my eyes at her bitchily smarmy attitude with that face that Zoey used to hate so much and continued to gaze at him, watching as he took a large cup of coffee (an Americano, I think) to one of the empty window seats, sat down with his back to us, and took out a book from one of his bags.

"Y'know what?" I said, standing up from my seat, "I think he's cute, and I'm gonna talk to him." Even as those oh-so-evil pals of mine started telling me not to, and urging me to sit back down again, and tell them what the hell I was thinking, I got up anyways, finding myself already standing behind the red-haired hottie. I was so close that I could see he was reading a book with vertical lines of strange letters, that he turned the pages of in a backward manner, like he was starting at the end and finding out how it began.

Summoning up all the courage I had, and putting on all my hot-guy-magnetising charm, I trapped him on the shoulder, getting his attention. "Excuse me," I said, surely loud enough for him to hear.

But he did nothing, just turned a page and carried on reading, like he couldn't understand English or something. Damn, he was probably some sorta out-of-town tourist-type. Trust me to have all the bad luck with guys!

I cleared my throat and tried again. "Excuse me?"

This time, he looked up from his book and turned to look right at me instead, his expression hidden by the Aviators. "Hello? What is it?" He asked. His voice was kinda deep, with a strong and kinda-hard-to-follow accent that made the greeting sound like 'herro'. Yeah, he was totally Japanese – Emi's mom and dad have the same kind of accent, where L's become R's and vice versa, and it sounds like they're dissecting every word. I'd even say that her parents and this guy looked a little alike, but I'd probably get divinely punished for being racist.

Shit… I hadn't banked on him saying anything, really (I totally work best with guys who let me do all the talking) so while I tried to form a decent reply out of nothing, he took a sip of his Americano, turned back to his book, and turned a page the wrong way again.

"So…" I began while he ignored me, "what are ya reading there?"

"The Tales of Genji." He replied, not even looking up at me.

I gave a small 'yeah?' in reply. "Is it any good?"

"As good as it will ever be." He said, again in that strange accent of his. Despite it, his voice was just to die for – the sort of voice every cute guy seemed to have. Speaking of 'cute', I had the sudden urge to take those shades off, just to see what his face was like underneath.

"Do you like reading?" I asked, giving him one of my sweetest smiles.

He nodded.

"What else do you like?"

He stopped reading a moment to think. "I like… science." He answered.

"Oh?" I faked an interest – guys love talking about themselves, and you could guarantee a date if you turned the conversation to their interests for a while, and said next-to-nothing about yourself. Guys love a mystery, and when you played hard-to-get. "Really?"

"Yes. And some silence."

"I that a band?" He gave a small yet almost movie-star-like smile. I nearly pounced on him, and I would've; only most guys don't like that kind of thing, except maybe those that like a girl to take charge. He didn't look like that kind, but then again I could be wrong.

"What else do you like?" I asked, making it sound more like a flirt than a real question. I tugged on my t-shirt a little like I was stopping it from riding up, really to turn his attention to my chest. Most guys couldn't get enough of it, and I bet he'd be the same. "I bet you like a lot of coffee, huh?"

He nodded, but his eyes didn't seem to go to my chest like I was sure they would. That meant he was either more of a thigh or butt man, or – God-forbid – gay.

He was taking another sip from his cup when I delivered one of my best lines, "I bet you wouldn't need coffee to stay awake all night with _me_ around." I must've gone down the wrong way, because he gagged a little, putting his cup down as he coughed. I made to pat his back, but he stopped before I could. He put a hand up to stop me, too.

"I'm fine, he said. "I just… never mind." He wasn't blushing, but I think he got the message – the spit-take was evidence enough for me. No doubt he's warming up to me a little, playing the tough guy act like he was.

He began again after a sigh, "You know, I hope your friends are the comforting type."

"Why?"

"Because you've just been rejected." I stared at him in shock, while he just smiled back. His voice had just changed as he spoke; the Japanese accent suddenly unpronounced and predominated by a British accent laced with American. It was one, but not, the other, but not.

I could only stare in shock. "You-" I began, "You-"

"What?" He asked, "Didn't want to be disturbed? Yes. Didn't want to be chatted up by some high-schooler while I read The Ring and drank coffee? No, because I_ really_ wanted to be drooled over today. That's _really _what I walked all the way to Utica Square to do today."

"But, but… you said you were reading the tales of Genji!"

"Did I?" He asked, "Well, wasn't that what you wanted to hear?" Wait, what? "Isn't that what you expected when you came up to me with the intention of asking me out? To be talking to a sweet little Japanese tourist?"

"How… how dare you!" I yelled, not caring that the whole coffee house had their eyes on me. In a huff, I sat down in the empty seat beside him, glaring right at him in the eyes. He'd been a perfect dick to me, and I wasn't going to sit there and take it like that, not ever!

It was with that thought, and while glaring at him that another thought crossed my mind: The shades indoors, the pallor, the attitude… could it be…?

"Lift up your fringe." I said. "Take off those shades, too."

"What?" He asked. An eyebrow rose. "Why should I?"

"Just… because!" I answered. "After all that, I deserve to know the truth!"

"And what truth would that be?"

"I need to know if…" I paused to lower my voice, "if you're a vampyre." I practically whispered the last word like it was a cuss, and still he must have heard it – the look of offense he seemed to portray was enough to see that.

"Don't confuse me with them!" He spat, keeping his voice down still.

"You still have to show me." I insisted. "You owe me that."

He heaved a sigh, and took off his shades. Underneath them, his eyes were brown and weary, half-lidded in the light from the window. Sighing again, he lifted his fringe to show…

Nothing. Just a blank, smooth forehead marred only by a scar hovering a few inches over his left eyebrow. For the next minute I just stared at it rudely, my mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Finally, I replied. "I'm sorry."

His expression softened. "It's alright." He said, "I didn't mean to offend or be so offended. Personally speaking, I hate vampyres. I'd hate to be mistaken for one of them."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "I know what you mean," I said, "ever since one took my boyfriend away from me, I've been the same way. I sounds really stupid, but I haven't forgiven her for it, and I don't think I could."

"Her? You mean… you knew her personally?" He took another drink from his coffee, awaiting my answer, actually looking interested.

"Yes." I said, "We used to be best friends, but you know the deal – she got Marked and she had her damn fangs on him before you could say 'pro-league'. I've barely seen the guy since."

He gave a sincere, apologetic look, and I had to struggle to stop myself from putting my arms around him. "I'm sorry for your loss." He said. It was as though he understood exactly what I was going through. Picking up his cup one more time, taking one last drink from it, he put it down, picked up his things, and extended a hand, obviously for me to shake, which I did.

"It was nice meeting you," He said, "Despite the interruption; you're not too bad to talk to."

"Th-thanks," I stammered, feeling hot all over as he smiled at me, "you too. My name's Kayla, by the way."

The smile widened a little. "My friends call me 'L.A'." he said.

"You mean, like the city?"

He rolled his eyes a little, like I'd missed the punch line of a joke or something. "Yeah, sure… why not." With that, he slid his shades back on his face, gave me a wave, picked up his things, and made to head out the door. He would have too, had I not noticed that his book was still sitting on the table, left behind. I picked it up, going to the door.

"You've left your-" thunder sounded, and I had to take a moment to register the grey clouds, and the rain pouring from them in torrents. I looked left, then right, but, well… he was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

I turned away from the door to walk back to my friends, who were all still there, ready and waiting to hear the account first-hand. Even Emi was back with us, having soon gotten off the phone from her mother.

"So?" asked Corrine, smiling as I sat back in the booth beside Emi, "How did it go?"

I just beamed at her for a full-minute day-dreaming before I answered, "Fine."

"Fine?" Ally said, "Is that all it was? Fine? Or_ fiiinnneee_?"

I kept on grinning like a loon, putting the book on the table in front of me, "Oh stop, he's not like _that_!"

"You're right," said Darcy, "He's probably gay or something!"

I turned a furious red blush, horrified at the idea, "No way! You take that back, Miss Not-Had-A-Boyfriend-Since-Last-Semester!" She laughed it off, as Darcy always did, but I bet she didn't like that remark – I wouldn't, if I were her.

The others were still babbling on about it, all except for Emi, who was looking through the book L.A had left. There was a serious look on her face, and she wasn't laughing like the others.

"What's up, Emi?" I asked, smiling, "Jealous?"

"Not at all," she replied, "but if you think you're gonna date him, then don't. He's bad news."

I glared at her, watching as she lingered on the last page in the book (or the first in that backward book), where a little hand-written inscription sat on the page, no doubt in his handwriting. She really was jealous! She's just saying that because she wants him all to herself! "And why do you think that?" I asked, "Just because he reads horror stories, it doesn't make him a bad person!"

"I agree – that doesn't make you a bad person," she said, "but if he is who I think he is, and if Kaasan is right, then he _is_ bad news. Be glad that he can't phone you up or anything."

"Oh yeah, and what make you think-" I stopped there as the thought crossed my mind, a horrible one. "I haven't got his phone number." I whispered, a statement more than anything.

"Oh yeah!" Ally said, "You would've been shoving it in our faces if you had it!"

"And he hasn't got mine," I said, ignoring her.

"That's good," Emi said, allowing herself a little bitch-smirk, "at least he knows not to put himself where he doesn't belong."

I turned on her then, "What IS your beef, huh? Does he have bad chi? Is he pure evil? What is it?"

Emi sighed and looked away. "I can't say." She said. "Just be glad that you won't have to cross his path again – the chance of meeting him again is slim to none."

I was still fuming over that for a long time, but not over the insults she'd flung his way – actually, it was the fact that, if she was right – and she usually was – I would never see him again.

When I left Starbucks in my car later that day, once the rain had died down, I took L.A's book with me, taking to looking at the foreign hand-written letters on the inside of the cover every now and again. I'd have to keep this book on me at all times, if I could, always in my purse. While Emi was probably right about never seeing that guy again, I really hoped that she wasn't. I mean, if I knew anything about him at all, he'd definitely come back for his book, and if he so happened to come back to Starbucks, then I'd be there. I'd be ready.

He wasn't going to be the one that got away… at least, not for long.

* * *

><p><strong>I have a little announcement to make, somewhat, before I comment at all on this lovely chapter. Between now and the writing of the previous chapter, I have:<strong>

**Read all of the books on the HON series, all the way up to Destined and including the Dragon Lankford extra novella. **

**Read the first issue of the HON comic (a comic that I can buy from the local comic store in the UK for a measly 50p, a ridiculously little amount of money, considering it's half of a Great British pound sterling (£1)).**

**Started reading the series from the beginning again.**

**Needless to say, you can imagine it's given me a lot of new ideas for this fic and what's to come, so expect some coolness and such. **

**As for this chapter, are you surprised at the reintroduction of the lovely Kayla? I'm surprised at myself a little, really. Not only has it given me a chance to show you what this fic would sound like if I kept to the Cast's original narrative style, but, in my opinion, it's given me the chance to use a much undersold character, one that I wanted to reintroduce for the simple fact that I think she should have her say, maybe prove to the world how little of a bitch she can be if she just had the opportunity. Not only that, but I really doubt that there are HON fics that use her at all, and I wanted to try something different here and pull it off, which I hope I have so far. **

**I know I'm rambling, but it's because I glad, I suppose. **

**Meanwhile, I'm planning on a new fic, called Omake Discharge, a drabble fic in which I'll publish omakes and side stories about my fics, including this one, and teasers for fics that will soon be here, including definite fics and ones that I'm not so sure on. What I really want to do is publish it soon, but since I have no idea what to do for the first chapter, you can find a poll on my profile asking you this very same question. Now, you have two options to choose from, so choose wisely!**

**Thank you for waiting, until next time, and please R&R,**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


	13. XII Examined

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**Ever read a vampire story and thought, where is the plot? If that's happened to you, and that's what you were thinking, you were probably reading House of Night… probably. **

* * *

><p>Chapter XII<p>

Examined

The rain came down heavy as I ran at speed down S. Yorktown Avenue. The shopping bags held to my chest, the muscles in my legs burning from the effort, the rain drops stung at my skin, hitting like bullets and soaking my hair through. My shades fared no better, the water marring the already limited vision, and so, still on the move, I pulled them off and stuffed them into the messenger bag slung at my shoulder, thankful that the cloud cover had hidden the worst of the sun from view. It was cold and biting, but not as I'd expected: It was a dim shadow of the last cold day I'd experienced, a cold that should have been amplified after the warmth of the coffee house before.

_I should have known that this new physiology would lend something of itself to me soon._

I gritted my teeth against the thought and picked up a faster pace, lowering my head against the rain, the water dripping down and parting streams through my hair. Why should I accept this idea, I mean, wholly accept it? Accept that I could benefit in any part from becoming that which takes pleasure in the kill, that which feasts upon the blood, upon the very soul, of humans?

Even to accept that I was in any part one of them, let alone benefitting from it all was heresy in itself, a slap in the face of our very creation, of our very existence.

_But… what about last night? What about that? _

That was a point to be made. If vampyres were monsters, and fledglings were monsters also, where did it leave the humans? What did it say about last night? At the Ritual, watching as every vampyre at the House gave their own sophisticated religious display, showcasing the product of thousands of years of a society safely isolated from human influence, worshipping a benevolent goddess with magick no human has ever wielded or received since the birth of Christ?

_Even these monsters were once humans. If they can show more love in their ways than humans have ever extended to one another before, then…_

I shook away the thought. I didn't want it to finish. Of course vampyres are monsters! They are but a savage apparition of the real humans on this Earth! Yet, if all this is true, then…

_Then humans should be destroyed, and let it never be said that we didn't deserve it. _

When I looked up, I was rushing by the Temple Israel, watching as the resident Rabbi came out into the cold, his skullcap the only protection his head was receiving from the rain. I thought I heard him shout, warn me about slowing down, but I was out of earshot, running as fast as I was able down the tree-lined avenue, ignoring him in favour of my own thoughts.

I ran further and further, not letting myself stop to drown where I stood, half-unable to believe the speed at which the rain clouds had covered a once blue sky, the speed at which they'd burst forth on the living.

Sooner than I'd expected, I was at the East Wall, the rain falling harder than ever upon me. The rope was still hanging from the overhanging tree branch on my side of the wall, the knotted end about a foot from the ground.

I knelt down beside it, folding the shopping bags to stuff them and their contents inside the new messenger bag, freeing my arms for the climb. I looked from the corner of my eyes over to the left to the main gate… It was still guarded by Sons of Erebus Warriors. Taking hold of the rope, I jumped and began climbing, gripping as hard as I could at the softened rope with each pull-up, trying not to make a sound with the effort, pushing up with a striding motion of the legs. I climbed swiftly, grabbing at the rope higher and higher, removing the lower hand off the rope before it can slip.

Hands wet and threatening to let me drop, I found my hand grabbing hold of the branch above, the top of the wall at level with my hips as I found myself suspended by one hand. The climb had been easier than I'd ever dared to think, and now I was so close to swinging into the tree and onto the House-side of the wall.

But, as we all learn, nothing is ever that simple. Ever.

The water had not only softened the rope, but the wood within my grasp. With a lurch, the wall seemed to rise, coming up to level with my navel, then my waist. I looked up. _Oh no… _As it transpired, as a sixteen year old male weighing just under 110 pounds, and at just about 5 foot 7 inches in height, I was far too heavy to be hanging relatively unsupported from a wet branch thinner than my forearm.

And so it began to bend, and I began to slip, my fingers sliding towards the end.

_Don't you dare. _I wanted to scream at the oak, demand answers from it, work out what I'd ever done to the tree to deserve such betrayal, why it was threatening to dump me right into the very fatally capable hands of the Warriors. _Don't you soften on me! Dry up!_

That command, that yelling thought seemed to spark something. Without warning, a familiar surging sensation coursed down my arm and through my fingers as I tightened my grip around the wood, taking hold with my free hand. The sensation took hold of the other arm as well, and before my eyes, the bark of the branch began to dry up, along with – and I didn't know then how I knew – the wood within

The branch ceased to bend, hardening as though sundried, dehydrating from the outside-in. Even the rain still pouring down seemed to have no effect as the branch began to straighten up to its original angle, pulling me up with it.

_No… way. Don't tell me that's… How?_

Suddenly, a creak. A brittle crack within the wood as it began to break. I tried to swing to the wall, but too late – a clean break. I fell to the ground, hitting it with a clear smack against the sidewalk below, barely a chance to draw breath. I nearly blacked out. Thankfully, I didn't, the rain on my face keeping me out of the white light.

Someone dragged me up onto my feet again, large hands holding me under my arms and peeling me right off the sidewalk. "Are you all right?" That voice was familiar: Darius. Nodding, I watched as he picked my bag off the ground, pointedly ignoring the length of rope lying beside it with the branch still attached. He passed the bag to me and I put it back over my shoulder as he led me to the front gate, frog-marching me there. I had no choice. He wasn't going to let me pass unnoticed. The jig was, as they say, up.

Taking me into the grounds and up to the main door, he smiled. "I do not know how you got out, but I will not tell Neferet as long as you go straight to your dormitory. Your classes will not be starting for a while, so get some rest." With that, the Warrior turned and returned to his post at the gate, leaving me very much alone. I was inside the grounds now, but considerably wetter than when I'd first left, perhaps even muddy to boot.

… Yes, there was mud, along with dark scuffs on the backside of my jeans and on my knees. I really should have known better than to go out dressed in white, considering the unpredictable nature of Tulsa weather. I'd have to blame my time locked up inside the Research Facility I suppose, not that it'd do me any good in the long run.

Now that I was back inside the grounds of the House of Night, I felt… refreshed, as though the sprint down S. Yorktown Avenue had never occurred, as though I could do all that and more without a thought, without trouble.

The rain came down harder now, and I blinked away the thoughts. The feeling of safety, of comfort ebbing, I ran to the boys' dormitory, to the only shelter available on these God-forsaken grounds.

By the time I entered the dormitory to find myself wrapped in the warmth, a few fledgling boys were already awake now, their numbers concentrated in the kitchen extension. Only one other was anywhere different, sat down on a sofa with a television all to himself, flicking through channels to his heart's content. While they all looked up to stare at me as I came in from the rain, they didn't do anything more than that, preferring to glare at me and say nothing rather than kick up a fuss and deal with me head on.

_What cowards._

I walked right past them, not even seeing them or acknowledging their existence as I made my way to the corridor in the back, and along it to the sky-blue door. Entering without knocking, I found Jack sitting on his bed and tying up his sneakers, already dressed in his school uniform. "Good morning!" he trilled, grinning as I shut the door behind me. "You're hot today, steaming!"

I rolled my eyes at him, putting my bag on the floor next to my bed while it dried out. With a gay roommate like Jack, who would've been fluent in the ancient language of Polari were he born in the right time and place, I could only expect it. "Ha, ha, ha," I said, my lips upturning along with my sarcasm.

"Just because you want me."

Jack shook his head, laughing, "In your dreams, Madame Butterfly! As nice as it would be to have you on the team with Damien and me, Shaunee would kill me first!"

'_As nice as it would be'… Does he really mean that? Me, a lover for either of them, much less at the same time? Surely, he'd eat me first._

He shook his head again. "Nah, but you really are steaming."

I looked down at my clothes then, to see wisps of steam rolling off them and my skin, the clothes practically drying before my eyes amidst that constant inner-sensation of warmth. I stroked the fabric of the shirt. It was drying, barely even damp, the product of drizzle rather than monsoon falls. "That's odd," I whispered, "it was raining heavily outside on the way back. It still was when I came in."

"Really? It was warm and sunny earlier, right?"

"Yeah," I wiped my hand across my forehead, before inspecting the fingertips. There was nothing on them. "I bet the rain's washed the concealer off." I walked into the bathroom at that, to look at it in the medicine cabinet mirror. Yes, the Mark, filled-in and blue, was as plain as daylight on my forehead, not a trace of the makeup left. Hastily, I brushed the my fringe back over it, ignoring the way my hair looked as though drenched in fresh blood. I emerged out of the bathroom again. "It has."

"Good," Jack said, "The first time I used it, it was _murder_ scraping it off. What did I learn? _Never_ leave the House without a good pack of makeup wipes!"

"I'll keep that in mind." I bent down to look at the stains on the knees of my white skinny jeans, rubbing at the dirt and watching as it flaked and came off like dust, coming clean easily. I smiled at the image, even as I was gripped with the sudden urge to take a picture of the miracle, just to prove my Obsessions wrong.

Turning back to the messenger bag, I began unpacking the shopping bags, picking out the American Eagle bag and handing it over to Jack. "I got this for you while I was out."

"Woah, really?" The crumbling, sounds of the shopping bag, and then a gasp of surprise. "Ohmigod" This is _gorgeous!_" I looked over to the blond to see him holding up the gift: A light blue sweater. It was simple, but something I was sure he'd like – it looked like the kind of thing, at least.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"You bet!" He held it up to himself, giving a cautionary twirl around the room. "What do you think?"

I smiled. "It matches your eyes."

"I know, right? I'm so gonna wear this the first chance I get! Damien would be so jealous – he's not gotten me anything since last Yuletide-" he paused, his head tilted in thought. "Wait," he began, his voice subdued, concerned, "you aren't trying to seduce me, are you? Because I'm totally with Damien, you know-"

It was my turn to interrupt him now. "No, it's not like that." I kept my voice light, unmark3ed by the absurd idea of me even liking him in that way. "I'm apologizing for yesterday. I'm really sorry; I won't do that to you again."

"You mean that?" Jack asked, his voice a whisper.

"Yeah. That was awful – no, stupid – of me. Will you forgive me?"

Jack grinned, refilled with good nature. "Of course. We're friends, right? Besides, I've not gotten to know you properly yet. I'm sure you're a great person deep… well, deep, _deep_ inside!"

"Thanks," I returned his smile. "I'd much rather be friends with my roommate than ignored by him all the time."

_Typical. He must've accepted the apology because I bought him off with a sweater. I suppose he'd much rather be friends with a good apologiser than an impetuous meal. I'll let him off for now, if just for conveniences' sake. _

There was a gentle knock upon the door, and jack bade entry. The door opened, and a head of soaked, disarrayed salt-and-pepper hair appeared, along with a pair of glasses and cautious look. His trousers and jacket were dark grey; his shirt was white and his waistcoat and tie matched: Both were a light grey with silver brocade. All of his clothes were drenched in rainfall. In one hand, he held a travel bag that he wheeled behind him; in the other, a leather hand-bag.

The old English gent, this Van Helsing was Doctor G Primrose, unmistakably so. "Hey," he said, breaking into a smile set above a chiselled jaw covered with stubble. "How're you holding up?"

I couldn't help but smile at my old colleague, standing up to offer a human handshake. "I'm fine, thanks." It seemed such a long time since I'd seen him last. Had it really been one day? I might have given the man a hug, had he not been soaked to the skin, and Jack been present and blushing.

"Did you get here alright?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, absolutely fine." He replied. "It started pissing it down on the drive over, and I'd chosen today to lose my umbrella only God-knows-where. It was my fault for forgetting that London and Tulsa weather are one and the same, so no hard feelings there. The High Priestess tried to kick up a fuss, only a human visitor, nut she soon calmed down when I reminded her that I had your best interests at heart. I told her she could play Professor X all she likes before I go, so she wouldn't have to wait downstairs."

Jack stared at him, blushing harder. "Light?" he asked. "Who is this guy? And what's 'pissing'?"

I stifled a laugh, just for the sake of being polite. "Jack Twist, this is Doctor G Primrose. He's an old friend of mine. He's brought some of my things for me." I motioned to the travel bag. "I've got an appointment with him as well."

"As for the 'pissing'," supplied Primrose, "it means that it's raining harder than the Indian Monsoon season out there, son, and no word of polite English is appropriate enough to describe it." He smiled, offering his hand to Jack. Jack shook it, a puzzled look on his face for the use of a hands-only handshake. "I was born and raised in London, England, so forgive the slang."

"As well as the style?" I jibed, looking him up and down pointedly.

"At least I didn't lose my good sense and decide to dress all in white today!"

"Well, I can get away with it, while you just look like an old man."

"The cheek!" he exclaimed, "Calling a young 20-something year old like me 'old man'! have you no respect for your elders?"

"Oh, negating your statements already? You should run for Prime Minister!" We both laughed at that, and Jack just stared, looking uncomfortable. I toned down my laughter to a smile, and Primrose took that as the signal to do the same. The fledgling wasn't used to these back-and-forths, nor would he understand the playfulness in our insults, that this one-upmanship was only play.

"Sorry," Primrose said, "I don't know I'm doing it, half the time." He wheeled the travel bag to stand by my bed and placed the leather bag upon it. Kneeling by it, he opening it up to reveal various pieces of medical equipment, his 'staple tools' as he referred to them five years ago, as he taught me how to use each one. "Where do you want to set up? The chair, the bed? I'm fine with either one." He was all-business now, and I acknowledged the explication.

"The chair will be fine." I pulled the chair out from against my desk, turning it round to face the door.

Jack gulped, and I turned to him. He was sitting on his bed with his knees up to his chest, holding them as he stared at the door. "Are you going to…?" He asked, eyes wide.

"Oh, sorry." I said. "I've got an appointment with Dr Primrose right now, so do you mind just leaving for a little while?"

"But… are you gonna… you know?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes at the insinuation. "It's nothing like that, just a check-up, like at the ."

"G… P?" Now he was really confused.

"You know," I said. I didn't bother to answer the question. "Damien might be awake now, if you want to go and say 'good morning' to him."

"Okay." He perked up a little at that, looking almost relieved. "But what if he's still asleep?"

"Then you'll be the first thing he sees when he wakes up. Instant romance."

He definitely perked up at that, and he unfolded himself off the bed, making for the door and giving a hasty "See you later!" as he left, closing it behind him.

I turned back to Primrose to find him cluttering my desk with his equipment, and I fought the urge to put them back in his bag for the pure sake of neatness, sitting myself down in my chair instead, waiting for him to finish. His stethoscope around his neck, he turned to face me when he finished. I grabbed hold of him by the collar, pulling him down to within inches of my own face, focussing on the Fire as I gripped tightly.

"Wait, what-?" Steam billowed off him thick and fast, and I let go, watching as the steam dissipated, the lenses of his glasses clouding up, and he felt at his clothes, unsure of what to think. "They're," he began, a confused expression finding itself upon his face, "they're dry, bone dry. How did you do that?"

I gave a sigh, sitting back in my chair. "I'm not sure. I did it unconsciously only ten minutes ago, so I thought I could do the same on someone else with conscious effort."

"Incredible," he muttered, taking off the suit jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair, feeling at the waist to find it equally dry. "Do you think it's the Denyxinil?"

"I don't think so," I answered. "I doubt a drug like that could cause affinities like that one. If we believe the fledglings here, then Nyx is the sole provider of any gift."

"But do you think the drug could've heightened the possibility of developing affinities, like it affected the Marking of the others?"

"I suppose so. I think it has something to do with this as well." I took a hold of a strand of my red hair between my fingers. "None of the other No-Hopers lived for this long after taking the drug, so we should assume that this is either an effect from the particular strain, or a timed effect – something that would have happened, had they lived long enough."

Primrose nodded. "We thought it might have something to do with this particular formula, but it's still very similar, if not the same as the previous one. So far, the only conclusion we've come to is that it's not the drug, but the patient – in other words, the drug isn't the variable this time, but you."

I sighed, shaking my head as I held out my wrist. "That can't be right." He took hold of it, and began taking my pulse, measuring with his wristwatch, "That's just unscientific, not to mention idiotic. If that were true, you'd be suggesting that either I have something none of the others had, or I am something the others weren't.

"Yes, but therein lies the problem: We don't know what that is, and we'd need a battery of extensive tests just to figure it out."

I nodded in agreement as he began taking my blood pressure, "We have to start those as soon as possible. You can take a blood sample from me today, if you can, and the moment we know what we're dealing with, we start narrowing down possibilities. We need to find another volunteer who is as biologically close to me as it's possible to be without actually being me. He has to be male, 16 years old, and possess the same stats as regards to height, weight, and mass. He should even be Japanese, too-"

"No." He cut me off.

"Oh, so ethnicity shouldn't be an issue in this test? Fine, then that's not important-"

"No, I mean, we're not doing tests."

"Not doing tests?" I looked over to him, incredulous, "But we've come so far now, we can't stop-"

"We have to." He said. "We've done enough damage as it is. We've killed, Light, and that wasn't what we set out to do."

"Killed?" I asked. "We haven't killed anyone. We manufactured the drug that killed them, but we didn't kill. We were – and are – working for the ADON project."

"Are you even listening to yourself? We gave them all a drug, and all of them died. They were called No-Hopers for a reason, and that reason is us."

"They didn't all die," I reminded him stiffly, "I'm alive, and I had as little hope as any of them of surviving."

"You," primrose said, glaring up at me, "are the exception that proves the rule. The reason you are still alive is above and beyond what we call Science, I'm sure of it."

"Are you saying it's the vampyres' fault I'm still alive?"

The doctor sighed. "Yes. They and their goddess have every reason to be pissed off with us, including the No-Hopers." He paused, his words hanging in the air between us, "However, for some reason, and I bet it's their goddess' doing, if she does exist, you're being kept alive. It may be DNA that allows humans to start the Change to Vampyrehood, but it's even more the soul and spirit that keeps you on that path, or allows you to drop off it."

It was my turn to glare. "Don't tell me you believe in this religion of theirs. Do you really think that their Almighty Nyx has something to do with why I'm alive?"

"I'm a scientist, remember? If there's anything we Scientists have in common, it's a mind open to new ideas, and right now I'm sure that their goddess is the end-all and be-all of this.

"When we made the Denyxinil and gave it to those No-Hopers, the opposite of what we wanted happened every time: they all ended up marked within hours after, instead of the drug preventing it. If I'm right, then the drug accelerated the process instead, and that's why they died – they couldn't get here in time, and the drug made their systems too fragile to deal with it, so their bodies rejected the Change instantaneously.

"While you've survived that first stage, I don't think you're in the clear, not by a long-shot. I know a lot about vampyres, and I've studied everything on them from their physiology to their theology, and while their goddess may allow Free Will, she'll be damned if she doesn't make us feel the consequences before we're done."

"So you're saying that I'm only alive for some 'Great Plan' She has for me." It was a statement, not a question, and he knew it. "I'm alive because I'm some _plaything_ for _bloodsuckers_."

"We can't rule that out, but right now, we need to focus on something less metaphysical, like you. You've survived the Marking and you're in a House of Night, but you still have the drug in your system, and as long as it's there, its anti-vampyre properties could kick in and do to you what it did to the others. While their goddess has got an influence, she'll be setting you up for a bigger fall than the others – I'm sure of that. In the meantime, we have to keep you healthy and make sure your body doesn't reject the Change any time soon – the healthier you are, the longer you'll last."

"I see," I answered, "but I did try to purge my system of the drug the night before, on the night I came here."

"With salt and water?"

"Yes. Had I access to any of the equipment back at the lab, I'd know if it worked."

"Or I could take the blood sample now and keep you posted on the tests. That would be the best solution. I'll start coming here regularly, to keep a check on you, and keep you updated on what you've missed so far at the lab."

"You mean, after I fell unconscious?"

"So you don't remember what happened, do you?"

"No," I answered, "but that's why you'll tell me."

He sighed, and paused in thought for a moment. "After you were given the Denyxinil, you were taken back to your room, right? And about an hour later, a Tracker came in however they do and you were Marked."

I nodded. "I remember that part quite clearly: There was a lot of pain involved, and I blanked out after I fell."

He nodded, and turned back to his bag, taking out a syringe. Taking the cap off the hypodermic needle, he inspected it. "But that wasn't all that happened: An hour after giving you the drug, we heard screaming and ran to your room, expecting that you were exsanguinating in the manner of the others, but, when we came in, you were stood up and about ready to attack us."

"Attack?"

"Yes. You were delirious, most definitely – you were speaking in Japanese, but the tone did sound threatening. Dr Summers tried to calm you down, but then, well…"

"Well, what?"

"You lashed out at her, and she hit her head when she fell. You went for all of us, actually. We had to sedate you before we could get you anywhere near the House of Night."

I looked away, ashamed of myself. _Had I really been that quick to become a monster? _"I see." Suddenly, he stabbed my thumb with the needle, and I sucked in air, unable to watch as he drew out blood and took it out again, storing the sample safely in his bag.

"I don't know why you reacted as you did, but you didn't die, which is the main thing, and we've got to keep you healthy if we want it to stay that way. For one thing, we need to make sure you eat properly and exercise regularly – thanks to the drug, your homeostasis will be much more delicate than the other fledglings here, so you've got to keep an extra careful watch on your intake. What have you eaten so far?"

I shrugged. "Not much, to be honest – the saline solution made me vomit, so I only had that the first night. After that, I've only had some black coffee, a bowl of cereal, and…" I had to think back to last night. Did I eat anything of that salad for lunch, or did I really just play with it like that?

"That's it?" Primrose asked. "A bowl of cereal and some coffee? Did you have anything while you were out today?"

"Just a large Americano."

"_Just?_" he sighed, shaking his head. "While I can't fault you for your coffee intake – the Lord knows your blood pressure is low enough to warrant coffee as a necessity – you can't go on with that little food! The House of Night will have you exercising every day to keep you fit, and if you don't match that in calories, you'll lose too much weight, and before we know it, you'll be dead and the project will end with not even one survivor!"

"End? What do you mean, 'end'? We've got started, and you think we can end it just like that?"

"Haven't you been listening? We've killed so many children with that drug, and you nearly ended up the same! The vampyres would kill us if they found out, and I for one want this to end now!"

"But-"

"Don't argue, you know it's true. We'll the project through to your outcome, but that's it. Whether you die or Change, we'll end it with you. You can have the results of our research so far, but that's all you're getting – the least of our funding will go to a local charity on behalf of the vampyres."

My expression hardened. Right there and then, I wanted to kill that great man. I wanted him dead just for hinting at betrayal. "And if I die?"

"Dr Summers will get the research."

"So you're giving up." I spat the words, my hands clenched in fists.

"Listen, please, will you? I have to! I'm a scientist, Light, and the last time I checked, we scientists were for the good of humanity, not it's senseless destruction! All those children died because of all this._ You _nearly died because of all this – and you still could – and all your intelligence would've been wasted. With your brains, you could single-handedly do what we scientists have only been able to do over centuries of hard work and effort. All that, wasted because I insisted on wiping out the only threat humans could possibly face from nature."

"Well, it won't be wasted, because the moment I can, I'm continuing the research. I'll continue the project, and lead it!"

"What? It's madness! Are you planning to kill others? Why does it matter? We tried and we failed, deal with it – just don't make the same mistake again."

I stood up. I just couldn't contain myself any longer. "I won't be making a mistake! You just told me yourself: I could do this single-handedly! I could purge us of vampyres, I will, and you can't stop me."

"No, Light-"

"I'm not a failure, not like you! You may have lost out to vampyres over and over again, you may be used to it, but I'm not! I won't lose out, not twice! I'm going to reopen the project, and if you, or Summers, or anyone else tries to stop me, I'll make sure you'll be killed personally!"

He took a step back, edging closer for the door. "You… you'd kill me?"

I nearly flinched at that look of fear he gave me, but I didn't let it show, not now. "Yes. I'd tell the vampyres about your terrorism, and they will kill you. And, with so many around right now, you can't believe I'm bluffing, now can you?"

He put a hand to his head, staring at me with shock. _'How did you know? Are you reading my mind?'… That's what you're thinking, isn't it? _

"You can leave now." I clarified. "You've done all you can here, you're not going to persuade me otherwise, at least not tonight."

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Picking up his leather bag, he pulled a black object out of it, and threw it onto my desk. "Use that to record your symptoms. You feel anything odd, write it in that; you eat anything, write it in that; you get especially involved with the vampyres, write it in that. Please use it, or we'll have nothing for the research later, and we won't have anything to go on if something goes wrong.

"Have a good day at school." With that, he took his leave, slamming the door shut behind him. Feeling more than hearing his footsteps dim and walk away, I moved over to the desk, picking up the doctor's parting gift.

It was the Death Note. The notebook given to every No-Hoper upon taking Denyxinil. What was more, it wasn't going to remain blank, as it had in the hands of No-Hopers before me:

No, this Death Note was going to know Ink. It was going to be used.

* * *

><p><strong>So, the plot thickens! Now that you've read this, you can see why that pointless-seeming prologue at the beginning was there – or at least, I hope so. I have to admit though, this wasn't my favourite chapter to write, I'm actually quite glad to see it over and done with, if I'm being honest. What's more, I really don't have much to say here, which is just rubbing it in. All I can say is that I've been unnaturally busy over the last month at least with the institution, with essays and speeches to write, and original pieces to edit. I was planning on having chapter 11 of The Art of Subconscious Illusion: Rewritten all done for today as well, as well as a chapter of Omake Discharge in time for this guy's birthday, but, well, what are we gonna do about it? At least this is done now and I can rest a little. <strong>

**Oh, but I can't rest. Damn… Let's hope that the next chapter doesn't take so long to arrive. It won't be quite as long, so that's a bonus. **

**Thanks for waiting, please R&R, and do wish me luck for the future.**

**Ruin Takada XXX **


	14. XIII Owned

**Tentative Title: No-Hoper**

**Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development. **

**No, Casts. This is not the correct domain for such slanderous abuses of the English language; this is, in fact, a Stick-Up.**

* * *

><p>Chapter XIII<p>

Owned

The time coming closer to 4PM now, I shut the Death Note away in my desk drawer, placing King's Carrie on top of it as a shield from prying eyes. While I would've felt safer with constructing a fake bottom for the drawer to put the notebook inside, in a secret compartment that only I had access to, I knew better than to attempt to make one now, regardless of whether or not I had the materials: Jack, for one, was far too pure and trusting to think to go through his roommate's possessions, and the notebook was currently blank and unused. It would be far too suspicious if I was found to be hiding something that, on the surface, held nothing of import.

Taking off my shirt and white jeans and throwing them on my bed, I pulled out a black shirt and a black HON sweater from the wardrobe, putting them over the back of the desk chair for now. I took the rest of my shopping out of the new messenger bag, pulled the tag off a new pair of black skinny jeans and yanked them on, adding a black belt. The shirt and the sweater went on next, and I was half-ready, only needing to comb my still-damp hair into submission. It was far too soon for breakfast, of course, and there was probably some homework I could do in the meantime, once I'd done something about the abandoned clothes.

I walked over to the bed to pick in worn shirt up, only to stop, staring at it in shock: There was a lump underneath the fabric, and a long, plush, black tail, the end flicking with… annoyance, impatience, bloodlust? I didn't know. All I knew presently was that there was something lurking under the shirt that shouldn't even be in this room to begin with; an intruder.

The tail flicked on regardless, slow and steady like a pendulum. The lump shifted slightly, a purposeful feel to the movements, and I lowered my hand slowly to the shirt covering it, taking hold of a sleeve gently, but nothing more. The tail flicked on, of course, and I remained still, waiting for an attack, for a single sign of malice and ill-intent.

"_Don't hold your breath."_

The words floated into my head, the voice attached strange, yet familiar, spoken through a smiling mouth. My eye widened as the voice laughed, and I had the sudden yet rational urge to run away and lock the door behind me, to call Primrose on my cell phone and beg him to send me to a shrink. But I didn't. I remained still, posture unchanged, still holding the sleeve.

_Calm down. Relax. There is nothing to be feared from a disembodied voice and a tail. _

"_But of course," _Answered the voice, _"It's the teeth and claws attached that you must fear!"_

"I'm going mad." I found myself whispering the words aloud, rather than keeping them safe in my head. The laugh answered again, and I forced myself not to buckle under the alarm, the stress.

_Don't be such a coward! You've faced down Ares before; you can take on this mite._

"'_Mite'? Say that to my face, scoundrel!"_

There was no other option now. Taking a deep breath to centre myself, I pulled up the shirt and held it by my side, not daring to blink as the lump was unveiled to me.

It was… a cat. No… not even a cat – a kitten. A tiny bundle of dense, soft-looking short fur. Bent into a hunter's crouch, it looked barely past eight weeks old. Large teal eyes meeting mine, it seemed to smile as its bottom wriggled and it became a blur. It materialised as quickly as it had disappeared, as needle-like claws sunk into my shoulder, a disdainful tone punctuated with a yelp as I – we – fell to the floor.

It was still there as I opened my eyes, a surprisingly heavy lump of plush on my chest, purring loudly and steadily. It stared into my face, its eyes large, teal, and underlined with black, as though with eyeliner. Its face was white, as was most of its body, with what looked like a black cap over its head that stopped just before its eyes and covered only half of its ears – that is, the half visible head on. A large smudge covered the left half of the bridge of its nose, the nose itself half-black and half-pink. The rest of the front was purely white.

It eyed me with an air of condescension, as though I was the very ground it walked on; studying me like a mouse it might care to eat. Stretching out its head, it made slight sniffs, closed its eyes, and licked the end of my chin. Then, it yawned, opening its mouth widely, displaying tiny white eye teeth.

"_You will do." _It – no, she – said. The voice was identifiably female; disproportionately low and Machiavellian, but most definitely feminine. I should have seen it in her features – it wasn't quite of the level of cuteness belonging to those kittens found frolicking on calendars and tins of cat food, but it was interesting enough.

_What do you mean, 'I'll do'? _I directed the thought at the feline.

"_I thought you would be smarter. She promised me a strategist, and all I have here is a can-opener." _She gave a sniff, like it didn't matter either way, deciding instead to crawl forward, a soft paw on my Adam's apple. Reaching forward yet again, she proceeded to sink a tooth into my left earlobe, practically piercing it as I yelped.

Thanking whatever deity held domain over the fact that she wasn't yet big enough to find cartilage, I sat up, forcing her to tumble down into my lap. Ending her journey in a heap, she began to flail her legs, struggling to get out of her position on her back. Pitifully, she mewed, a whining cry that was sure to annoy in the not-too-distant future. From above her, I could see that her stomach was completely white, as were her front legs, save for a black splotch on the back of each one, just above the pads. It was the same on her back legs, save for the left one which didn't possess the black splotch, although both held large black patches up the back of the legs.

Gingerly, I picked her up, holding her up with my hands under her front legs, inspecting her from arm's length. She narrowed her large eyes, and make a sound akin to a growl. _"How dare you treat me like a common dog! Were it not mote that you are solely under my employment on a staff of one, I would have you henceforth demoted to litter box! _

"Those are big words coming from a little girl like you." I told her, giving my own human version of her cunning smile.

"_Oh yeah? Well, big words coming from a, uh…" _She paused to think, stuttering, _"… uh, Two-Legger!"_

"Well observed." I said. "I do have two legs. And those legs each have a foot on the end, and each of those feet are more than capable enough to cave in your skull if you dare bite me again!"

What she did next was something like a feline eye-roll. _"That is not allowed. Or are you really that stupid? I am your familiar, and you are my can-opener. If you hurt me, you will be banished to the odorous pits of MU, with not even a Book of the Dead to guide your way out!"_

_Not allowed… this was a vampyre thing, wasn't it?_

"_Too right this is a vampyre thing, Two-Legger, so take it like a Warrior, or be a dog for the rest of your life!"_

"Has anyone told you that it's rude to listen in on other's thoughts like that?"

"_Perhaps… but I am a princess, you know! _She _said so! Treat me like royalty, or forever feel my wrath!"_

I rolled my eyes at her, scooping her up to sit in my arms with her back against my chest. Her back was mostly an asymmetrical splash of black that stretched from the cap to the base of her black tail. The patch didn't cover her sides, and it was only broken by an isolated sliver of white close to the base of her spine.

"_You should take a picture, you know."_

"Why, so it'll last longer?"

She gave a snorting sound, something close to 'as if'. _"No, because I am the best and I deserve to be in your thoughts at every given moment."_

"Uh huh," I said. "Keep telling yourself that."

"_I will! Oh yeah, and I get to go wherever I like. From one room to the next, to the Meal Place, on every desk you will ever sit at, and everyone else's."_

I sighed. "Why, because you're the best?"

"_No, because this is the House of Night and She said so! But yes, I am the best, am I not?" _She lifted a paw and licked it, grooming herself, as though suddenly bored with the attention she was garnering for herself. I took that chance to stand up, still holding her to my chest.

"You know what?" I said to her, lowering my head to hover next to hers, "I'm going to name you."

"'_Name me'?" _She asked. She turned round to look at me with a signature glare. _"What do I need a name for? I am the best, how can anyone not know who I am? And you, what do you need a name for? You are so recognisable, you are unforgettable!"_

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"_Nothing. I just think names are stupid. All you need to know is that you are a can-opener, and I am the Great-I-Am!" _I expected another laugh, but she didn't give one.

_She's actually deadly serious. _

"Well, you deserve a name, you know," I sighed, "one that doesn't invoke cries of 'blasphemy'." I'd said it just to spite her, and the tone I used was fitting enough to that end, but she still took it seriously.

"_Fine… but I am royalty by Her divine appointment! I deserve a title that will go down in history and tell of my greatness. I deserve it!"_

"All_ you _deserve is a run around the table and a kick at the cellar door."

"_Table…? Cellar…? What…?"_

"Never mind." The phrase was courtesy of one Dr Primrose, apparently. He'd used it often enough, mainly when No-Hopers asked what was for dinner. However, when he said it, it sounded more like 'ah run 'raand table an ah kick a' cellar doo-er', like a true Yorkshire-man.

I let the kitten jump out of my arms when she squirmed enough, and she landed gracefully on my desk. In her wake, she'd left a light coating of white hairs over the black of my sweater. Dusting them off, I turned the desk chair to face the deck again, and I sat in it, facing the feline head on. I was staring at her for a whole minute before I finally said, "How about… Daisy?"

"_What? Like a big moo-thing? Take that back!"_

A sigh. "Fine. Not Daisy." Another thought. "You need a little girl's name. Something delicate and sweet. You know, not like you at all."

To be honest, I didn't really know how to go about naming a cat, especially not a cat like this one, who always had a high opinion to give all the time; all the cats I'd met before coming here were lab specimens, accompanied by rats and rabbits and dosed up on various chemicals unfit for even human use. Heck, even this healthy thing, alive and talking, was bad enough on its own.

The others probably had cats. I wouldn't be surprised if all the fledglings and vampyres here had a furry familiar who called them their own. If I knew how the others went about naming theirs, I'd probably have a better chance of naming mine.

_Snap out of it! You're a genius, right? You should have a better idea of how to do anything than them! Surely you have a creative bone in this body of yours!_

I sighed. Looking back, I really didn't, did I? So, turning to the one piece of advice from Damien that seemed to make sense, I picked up The Fledgling handbook 101 from the top of my desk, watching as the kitten merely looked at my hand like it was something to eat. I opened it up, flicking through for a section that I'd only skimmed through before.

I stopped on page 52, finding myself faced with a gorgeous illustration over a double-page spread of an exotic woman in a white robe and gold jewellery, her eyes lined with black kohl, great tongues of flame bursting forth from her palms.

_Flame… Fire…_

Indeed, of all the four elements that I've felt under my influence, Fire had been the one to come to my aid when I was held down by Neferet, to one to come forth on that subconscious level. _'From the south I summon Fire. I ask that you burn away our fear, and replace in us the gift of strength, to bind us together and illuminate the darkness.'_

I took one look at the eyes of the kitten, the way they seemed to be underlined with black kohl… "Cleopatra." I said, and the kitten looked my way, disturbed from her grooming.

"_Excuse me?"_

"You are Princess Cleopatra… 'Cleo' for short."

She looked to the illustration in the Handbook, gazing at it. _"Very nice choice, but I am Princess Cleopatra or nothing."_

"Fine, _Nothing_. Is that fine with you, Nothing?"

She gave an annoyed kind of sigh. _"I will give in for now, because I really should be napping soon… but when you call me Cleo, you say it with the utmost respect you can muster, and you think on how lucky you are to be graced with my presence every day." _She paused, and another thought crossed her mind. _"Oh, and I want a cushion on this desk… or maybe by the window. Not to sit on all the time, you understand, but just something set aside for me to sit on, should I choose."_

"You really are a selfish thing, aren't you?" I reached over and scratched her behind the ear, smiling as she purred.

"_I'm your familiar. Just you in a furry ball of cuteness."_

"Like Pullman's dæmons?"

"_What? How should I know what a 'daemon' is? Don't ask stupid questions, can-opener!"_

"Fine. You can call me 'Light'."

"'_Light'? That's worse than Daisy!" _I didn't argue with her, instead taking my school things out of my rucksack and putting them into the messenger bag, slinging it over my shoulders. I put on my shoes and, scooping Cleo into my arms again, we exited the room, stopped only momentarily for me to close the door behind us.

I the Common Room, with a sofa all to ourselves, I sat down with a bowl of Cornflakes and a mug of black coffee, spending the time until 8PM fending on an inquisitive kitten from putting her paws in my cereal, or pulling my spoon towards her with a paw, demonstrating why cats had never needed a set of opposable thumbs. It was then just an exhausting job to keep her from getting wired on caffeine, and from nibbling on my fingers worse than she already was.

Cleo, it seemed, was going to be a real handful.

* * *

><p><strong>While I apologise for the fact that this is such a short chapter, I do not apologise for the content. Yes, it is a little bit like filler compared to the hugely plot-full content of the previous ones, but it is just as important. The fact is that, since we don't have shinigami to fulfil the need for social commentary, Cleo will do this just fine. <strong>

**Another important fact: The description of Cleo is so particular because she exists in real-life. She is actually my cat, the currently two year old (three if she's lucky) domestic short-hair who is actually called 'Cleo' in real-life as well (and yes, it IS short for 'Princess Cleopatra'). The fact that the original Princess Cleopatra is the role model for all who have a Fire Affinity and the name of my cat is a pure coincidence that I decided to exploit for the good of this story. **

**A fair warning – if, from this point on, numerous nicknames make their way around the group that is Zoey's Super Friends plus Light, you are not to worry. The real Cleo puts up with a great many nicknames, including 'P.C', 'Kitten', 'Buggerlugs', 'Peebles', 'Baby Cat', 'Ig'nant', 'B***h-Cat' (affectionately, of course), so if NoHoper's Cleo finds herself dubbed with them, you should know that they apply to the same cat. No other cat is showered with this kind of praise. Yes, I do love her, but as you will find out, she is a rather violent and stuck-up character, and what she says in this fic is my interpretation of what she is trying to tell me in real life. **

**Thanks again, and please stay tuned for the next chapter!**

**Keep it fo' realz,**

**Ruin Takada XXX**


End file.
